


Sink

by MalevolentReverie



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Choking, Dark, Electrician Rey, Eventual Smut, F/M, Forced Bonding, Forced Cohabitation, Heavy Angst, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Minor Armitage Hux/Rose Tico, Minor Finn/Rose Tico, Minor Poe Dameron/Finn, Oliver is NOT going to die, POV First Person, POV Rey (Star Wars), Prison, Psychiatrist Kylo Ren, Psychological Horror, Serial Killer Kylo Ren, Serial Killers, Slow Burn, Soul Bond, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Suicidal Thoughts, dark soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:02:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 17
Words: 33,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22379911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalevolentReverie/pseuds/MalevolentReverie
Summary: Rey is an apprentice electrician who dreams of owning her own farm someday, soulmate at her side. A job in the nearby state prison leads to her accidentally finding him: an inmate, and a serial killer.And there is no escape.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 1627
Kudos: 2223





	1. I don't want to let you go

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Sink](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24683686) by [Tersie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tersie/pseuds/Tersie)



> this was a group effort w a lot of polls on twitter lolol
> 
> accompanying song is “sink” by brand new

“Miss Niima?”

I’m zoned-out watching a news report flashing in the town hall’s waiting room. It’s one of those old cases and hard to follow, so it’s not hard tearing myself away, slinking past all the other people waiting to pay their tickets and bonds and bail. Elevator music mingles with a crying baby who’s mother is apologizing and trying to quiet down.

The receptionist smiles when I walk up to the window with my check and I smile back. It’s been a long day at work crawling through tight spaces and zapping my fingers on tangled wiring from sixty years ago. I just want to go home and zone out in front of my own TV.

“Fifty dollars,” she says.

I push it through the little alcove—my first ticket in my entire five years of driving. Came home late and ran a stop sign. Whoops.

After I get my receipt I head home. It’s January in northern Montana and cold like it always is, which means my Corolla takes an extra minute to turn over in the parking lot. Shivering, I rub my gloved hands together and press my forehead to the cold steering wheel, eyes closed. I really can’t wait to go home: I live on the outskirts of Kalispell and it’s a long drive through Flathead National Forest to get there.

But it’s something. It’s mine, even if I have to work constant overtime for Unkar to pay for it.

I drive back through the dark and am about ready to pass out when I pull up to my ramshackle trailer. Next spring I want to get the white siding redone in gray; maybe replace a couple windows with something energy efficient. For now, though… it works.

Barking heralds my blue merle rough collie, Oliver, coming to greet me at the door. He’s about a year old and _full_ of boundless energy that I unfortunately don’t have a lot of time for anymore. I’m hoping that will change this year—I’m in my second year of my apprenticeship so Unkar should be lightening up on me.

Should. I’m not holding my breath, just like I’m not waiting around for my soulmate like some other people do. I’ve learned that there’s little you can depend on in life except yourself.

“I know, I know,” I laugh as I shut the door and lock it. I kneel to let him sniff me and lick my face, tail wagging a mile a minute. “Let me eat something then we can throw the frisbee for a bit.”

Oliver barks and follows me out to the kitchen. He sits politely next to his food dish and waits while I rummage through my fridge for the chicken soup I made a couple days ago. I heat it up and pour some on his kibble before I set it down, then lean on the island and eat the rest while he stuffs his face. Kibble scatters everywhere. He’ll clean it up, though.

We eat our dinner and I take him through the glass door to the backyard to throw the frisbee for a bit. Darkness crawls across the trees as Oliver takes off for the frisbee, and I keep my eyes peeled for opportunistic coyotes or wolves. We’re all alone out here. Big open space littered with old, rotting trees so tall that you feel like a bug under them.

Oliver leaps in the air to catch the frisbee and I clap, laughing as he trots back with his head held high, paws crunching in the snow. I’ve got a big project coming up next week that Unkar says is gonna pay well, and should give me extra time home with the dog—but Unkar has always been a liar.

Still, he’s my only two-legged family. I followed him into becoming an electrician, even if it’s just a means to an end. As I wrestle the frisbee from Oliver and throw it again, I imagine we’re on the ranch I’ve dreamed about and he’s herding sheep and goats to his heart’s content. Maybe my soulmate is standing next to me. Hopefully.

I clap and whistle to call Oliver back. Someday. Shouldn’t be long now.

—•—

“All kinda of problems with their electrical here. Prison is ancient—they’re gonna need us for _weeks_ to untangle the mess they’ve got.”

Something blares overhead and I flinch. I’m following Unkar into Montana State Prison, apparently his genius idea of a lucrative job. It’s an all-male prison and not a place I want to be: it’s fucking enormous and looks more like a castle in Europe than a maximum security prison.

I turn a bit to look back at the gate we just passed through. “Seems like a bad place for a woman to be. Maybe Mitaka would be better. He has small hands.”

“He’s a dumbass. _You’re_ helping me with this, Rey.”

It isn’t like I have much of a choice. Unkar is a master electrician and I’m following the non-college route of becoming one, so I have to work under him for four years: I have to squeeze through narrow spider-infested crawl spaces, stick my hands into tight spots full of snakes and mold, and obey whatever he tells me to do. It fucking sucks.

We’re escorted to the guard station full of tough-looking men with guns and truncheons and squawking radios. Everyone in Montana owns a gun—I have a Glock at home—but seeing so many in one place makes me strangely nervous.

Unkar signs us in and I hook on my tool belt before following him, with two security guards, into the cavernous cafeteria. All the inmates are outside so we have a couple hours to figure out why the overhead lights are shorting out. Like Unkar said, it’s probably from wiring that isn’t up to current code.

It’s harshly lit with fluorescents, half of which aren’t working, and all the tables and seats are bolted into the chipped white floor. Rows and rows of cells tower above us on the upper floors, lined with high railings to keep the inmates from jumping. Our shoes echo off the empty spaces and I hurry I keep up.

“There’s an access panel over here,” says one guard, Will.

He leads us around a corner to my worst nightmare: a tiny open door through which I have to squeeze myself. I roll my eyes and grab a flashlight. The three men chat about politics and fishing and I’m left to do the dirty work. Typical.

Today we have to figure out where the problem might be instead of fixing it and I’m the best person for that job. I climb through dust and, as expected, gigantic spiders, until I find a worn circuit breaker that definitely needs replacing. By then I’m sweating and feeling faint so I crawl back out, swatting cobwebs and spiders out of my way as I go.

Unkar is sitting with prison guard Ted and they’re having a good laugh about something. I stretch as I emerge, brown jumpsuit covered in dirt and filth, and notice a couple prisoners have filtered in from outside. My spine prickles.

“Needs a lot of work,” I say, eyeing the three men in orange jumpsuits. “New circuit breaker to start. I didn’t get that far in.”

“Then go back,” Unkar retorts.

“Y’look kinda pale,” interjects Ted. He looks over his shoulder and motions to another guard. “Jack will bring you some water if you want to sit for a bit.”

They’re all obviously ranch hands or farm boys; former football stars in high school who could only find work at the prison. I thank Ted and sit next to him where I figure I’m safest, and Unkar snorts and rolls his eyes. It gets _hot_ in crawl spaces.

I keep my gloves on while I drink my water and listen to the men chat. I’m trying not to stare at the inmates but I’m curious—one is short and bulky, contrasting the other two beefy guys he’s with, and they’re all covered in tattoos up to their necks. I sip my drink and study them while their backs are turned. Wonder what they’re in for. Murder? Rape?

While I’m watching, a fourth inmate emerges from a hall, escorted by two guards. I only catch a glimpse of him but he has black hair and is in chains. No tattoos.

It shouldn’t attract my attention. He’s just like the others. But something stirs in my chest and rings softly in my ears, like whispering, like someone is trying to tell me something. I frown at the back of the inmate’s head and wonder—

“Haven’t you sat long enough?”

I blink, and find Unkar glaring at me. Rolling my eyes, I thank Ted for the drink and grimace as I crouch into the crawl space again.

—•—

Some people like to stay covered up when they go out. _Most_ do, I think, because finding your soulmate isn’t always the fairytale ending you hope it will be.

I don’t. On nights like these when I go out with Finn and Rose to our favorite dive bar, I leave my hands uncovered; unprotected. It’s frowned upon but I’d rather deal with some side eye than risk missing making that connection. It’s one in a million, so romanticized and sacred that you become this mythical being if it happens.

I’m willing to risk it. I don’t want to be alone forever.

“Rey—you want a beer?”

Finn has an arm around Rose’s shoulders which is still weird to me with his soulmate sitting two seats down. Poe looks uncomfortable, holding a Bud Lite in both hands and watching them from the corner of his eye. This is an instance where the soulmate thing has backfired spectacularly.

“Heineken,” I shout over the din. “Get me those cheese fries, too!”

“Poutine?” Rose calls, laughing.

“Whatever!”

I settle back in our booth and glance at Poe. He’s a nice guy: ex-Air Force, owns a farm near Helena. He and Finn accidentally touched at a rodeo of all fucking things and now they can’t be apart or they’ll both die.

 _Unfortunately_ , Finn is engaged to Rose and still very much in love with her. Now he and Rose can’t have sex, he’s going between Helena and Kalispell with Poe, Poe is in love with him, and I’m awkwardly on the sidelines listening to all three of them bitch. It’s the most complicated love triangle outside a soap opera and I hate it.

Poe rubs his beard, smiling. “So, did Rick reduce that ticket for you?”

“Yeah, he did. Thanks for that.”

“No problem. Went to basic with him—never thought he’d become a cop. He was at the bottom of our group; total dipshit.”

“Caught me rolling through that stop sign though,” I sigh, and we laugh.

The other two come back before Poe can start grilling me on what Finn has been up to. Rose kisses him and pointedly ignores Poe, launching into telling me about how excited she and Finn are for the wedding in May. Yeah, they’re still getting married.

“Is your dress altered?” she asks, narrowing her eyes.

“ _Yes_ , it’s been ready for weeks.” I point the mouth of my beer at her, scowling. “Don’t get all snippy with me. You don’t even know where your honeymoon is gonna be.”

And what a weird honeymoon it will be. Once you meet your soulmate you don’t… _respond_ to anyone else. Rose mentioned bringing Poe and keeping him in the room so she and Finn can fuck, and it’s amazing how quickly things like that become normal. Poe isn’t going anywhere. He can’t.

He tries to make light of the situation, joking about the honeymoon and how he’ll bring headphones so he doesn’t hear them, but it’s obvious how badly it hurts him. Finn isn’t immune to it, either: I see how he gravitates toward Poe but can’t let go of how much he loves Rose. I hope she meets her soulmate soon so they’re all put out of their misery.

“I like Jamaica,” Poe offers, smirking at Finn.

Finn gives him a stern look. “We’re thinking of Iceland. It’s supposed to be really pretty there.”

“Finn has three weeks off from the office,” Rose adds excitedly. “I’m on break from school so it works out great.” She beams up at him, hugging his arm. “I can’t wait.”

“Can I come?” I ask, then snort into my beer. As if I have the money for that.

Poe shrugs, throwing an arm over the back of the booth in a subtle possessive way that doesn’t escape Rose’s notice. She purses her lips.

“The more the merrier, I always say,” he says.

“I bet you do,” Rose snaps.

Then we settle into uncomfortable silence. I sip my beer for a minute before Rose tears off, already crying, and I motion for Finn to stay. He can reassure her as much as he wants, and I don’t think Finn is the type to cheat, but the inevitability of the whole thing hangs over their heads like the boot waiting to drop.

It’s not going to work out. Sometimes a blessing becomes a curse.


	2. But it hurts my hands to hold the rope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it begins 👀
> 
> also the security in this prison sucks lmfao

Progress in the electrical system is slow-going. It’s as complex an issue as Unkar thought and we have to bring in Mitaka to help by day three, after I almost pass out a handful of times. It takes more than one near fainting spell for him to get help.

We wear thick gloves to help shield us from spider bites: I’ve seen a couple black widows hanging around and a big wolf spider scares Mitaka so bad that he has to go outside for some fresh air. They’re not as bad as they look, though. Generally, if you give them space, they do the same for you.

The heat is overwhelming. I pour sweat under my jumpsuit and gloves and the respirator makes my head swim. Hard to breathe. My fingers tremble while I untangle old, faulty wires, hissing when they give me a zap that passes through the gloves. It’s miserable work, and Unkar sees most of the money. Going to take at least a handful of weeks before it’s all done, too—and he always takes forever to pay up.

On the fourth day I crawl free, already peeling off my damp gloves and tossing them to the floor. Ted is sitting at a table playing cards with an inmate who glances up and offers me a slim smile. Unkar is nowhere to be seen.

“Bathroom?” I croak.

Ted motions towards the hall. “You can go ahead. Everybody is outside right now.”

I’m not keen on the idea of walking alone through the prison but Ted is clearly _far_ too busy. I roll my eyes and dust off cobwebs as I head for the bathroom alone, steps echoing in the empty cafeteria. A guard stands outside the bathroom, at least. I’m not going to be completely alone the entire time.

But he isn’t there. I do a quick turn, frowning, but don’t want to risk exploring in search of him.

As soon as I step out of the bathroom—I _feel_ it again. It’s like soft whispering; like a subtle tug in my chest. For a second I worry I’m about to have a massive heart attack from the intensive labor, but—

“Excuse me.”

I whip around and jump back with a startled half-scream that won’t have anyone come running. An inmate is standing three feet behind me, wrists and ankles chained. It’s the same one I saw a handful of days ago and I’m scared shitless because there isn’t a guard here, but he’s also bleeding profusely from the head. Blood makes me queasy.

He smiles, wincing. “Forgive me—I’m postictal and a bit confused—are you a guard?”

I shake my head, frozen to the spot. He’s very tall and has thick biceps with broad shoulders. His black hair is tied back, giving me a good view on a ragged scar across his throat. Holy shit.

The man sighs and nods. He starts to shuffle past me toward the cafeteria and I just stare. Should I stop him? Am I supposed to stop him?

“Is Rollins up ahead?” he asks.

“T-Ted?”

“Yes, dear. Up ahead?”

I nod fast. Fear churns my guts. Do I scream? Is he going to kill me? Did he kill the bathroom guard?

But in the next moment the stranger stops dead, facing away from me. His head droops toward his shoulder and he’s suddenly _falling_.

He collapses before I think to catch him. Panicked, I call for help, even though the blood running down the side of his face makes me sick to my stomach. The inmate groans as he rolls on his back, pale face contorted in pain—and it strikes me that this could all be a trap. I stay where I am out of his reach even though I’d like to help.

“Well _that_ hurt,” he mutters.

Ted comes around the corner and snaps a curse. He radioes to another guard and storms up to the inmate—just to kick him _hard_ in the ribs. It makes me jump, shocked at the violence toward someone who’s already rolling around on the floor in pain.

“Kylo, you prick,” Ted spits. “How the hell did you get in here?!”

Kylo grimaces, exhaling a sharp breath. “Thank you, Mister Rollins. I wanted a couple kicks to the ribs to go with my seizure.” His throat bobs. “I couldn’t find Mister Paroni outside—”

“Shut up.” Ted kicks him once more and it punches a pained grunt from Kylo. “You’re supposed to be outside with everybody else, not threatening the nice lady here to fix the electric!”

“Oh, he didn’t threaten me,” I interject, shaking my head quickly. I feel a strange need to insert myself in the conversation. “He’s pretty hurt. Maybe you shouldn’t kick him in the ribs.”

Ted looks at me like I said the earth is flat. I shrug, trying to smile, but it doesn’t land. His radio squawks and he turns away from us to answer it, arguing with someone through the static.

It seems inhumane to leave Kylo lying on the floor the way he is. Maybe I can help him sit up. I’ve heard on TV that people with head injuries need to stay awake.

I grab my gloves and cast a glance over my shoulder at Ted. Kylo has his eyes closed but cracks one open when I reach down to offer my hand. It’s stupid. This is stupid. He could grab me and kill me but I can’t just ignore him lying there and I don’t know why.

“So you can sit up,” I explain, voice pitching nervously. I clear my throat. “Since you have a head injury? You should stay awake.”

A slim smile tugs the corners of his lips. I notice my hand is trembling and I _know_ I’m scared shitless, but I’m compelled to help him for some reason, and it’s keeping me from turning tail and running away.

“Do you know who I am?” Kylo asks, raising his eyebrows. I shake my head and so does he, like a mirror image in a funhouse. “Oh. That makes sense, then.”

He unfolds his long fingers but can’t move them far. I lean down further and he takes my gloved hand in both of his, and I hardly register how warm and huge they are before _it_ happens.

An electric shock jolts straight up my arm, snapping right through my thick work glove like it’s nothing. I blink in shock because I know what _it_ is and can only stare at our hands because it isn’t supposed to happen unless skin touches skin. But I can feel it. I feel him lodge in the corner of my heart and the curious, uncomfortable sensation that I’m not alone anymore.

My ears ring. I drop Kylo immediately, eyes wide, and he frowns, twisting his palms to look at the angry red, gnarled scars now stretching across them. They look like tree branches. It’s a mark. It just happened through a physical barrier and that isn’t supposed to be possible.

“Alright, asshole, we’re going to the infirmary.”

Ted ambles over to haul Kylo off the floor. He clenches his hands into fists and studies me, calculating, quiet. I’m getting a terrible pain in the side of my head where he’s bleeding from and I think I’m going to pass out—why am I so tired all of a sudden? What the _fuck_ —

I brush past the two of them, heading for the cafeteria to sit and collect my thoughts. My entire hand burns from wrist to fingertips; I don’t want to see how bad the scarring is bound to be. Maybe he had something hidden in his hand, like one of those trick buzzers. Maybe I’m just feeling some sympathy pains from him having a seizure.

Mitaka is on his phone when I get back to our table. He peeks up and waves, cocking his head when I start collecting my stuff.

“You okay?” he asks.

“I’m fine.” I swallow, looking back at the hallway. “Well—I’m sick. I have to go home.”

“Oh… okay. I’ll finish cleaning up.”

I nod and thank him and he smiles. Unkar will be mad but I’ll deal with him tomorrow. I need to get the hell out of here.

The guards give me weird looks as I rush out to the parking lot. Sympathy pains throb in my ribs and my head, and I drop my keys when something abrupt takes my breath. They’re kicking him. He’s drowsy and indifferent to it but they’re kicking him hard enough to make me stop dead, groaning.

Things don’t improve when I finally get home to Oliver after a tense car ride. I’m delirious as I stumble inside, head aching in tandem with the pain in my ribs and the yanking in my chest. We’re not supposed to be separated. We could die if we’re separated for too long, and it gets worse the further and longer we’re apart. To some degree, this is normal.

But this is… _intense_. I’ve read all about the way it’s supposed to feel when you first bond and how overwhelming it is to suddenly meld into the other person, but nothing prepares me for this. He’s washing over me like a tidal wave, a frenzy of negative emotion I can’t control, and I sense him in my head, fingertips dug into the crevasses of my brain. Like talons.

And I don’t know the first thing about him. I know the sound of his voice and warmth of his hands—I know his first name. I don’t know how favorite color or food or what the fuck he went to prison for, and I’m too scared to Google it. What if it’s something awful?

Oliver whimpers, dipping his head as I stumble toward my bedroom. I knock into the sofa and blindly collapse over the arm of it, too weak and dizzy to go any further. I’ll just take a quick nap. That should help sort things out. When I wake up I can think more critically about this and what I’m going to do.

I fall asleep there without taking my glove off. I don’t think I can bear to look at the mark.

—•—

It’s dark when I wake up on the couch.

Oliver is lying next to me on the floor and lifts his head when he hears me groan. I reach down to scratch his head and peel off the glove without a second thought.

In the moonlight I see the mark: twisted branches like Kylo’s, contorting all along my palm and the back of my hand in bright, angry red. I stare and slowly turn my wrist to get a better look. It’s unmistakable. It will match up perfectly with the mark on his palms.

I sit up, brushing my hair back from my forehead. This is bad. This is very bad.

Oliver follows me out to the kitchen, where I feed him and find some soup for dinner. I’m too nauseous to eat, though, and I put it right back where I found it. _He_ is calling me—like when Oliver tugs my sleeve with his teeth, gentle but persistent. He’s calling me and resisting it is literally making me sick.

“No.” I shake my head, pacing. “This can’t be happening. This isn’t possible.”

I don’t know how much Kylo can see. I hope he can’t leaf through my memories like Poe sometimes does when Finn gets back from an outing with Rose. It’s embarrassing and _terrifying_ that this stranger could be able to see my deepest, darkest thoughts.

But—it’s okay. It’s normal to feel overwhelmed. The best way to deal with it is to see a counselor but my soulmate is in fucking prison and we can’t do that.

Kylo gives another gentle pull, insistent, and it makes me burst into tears. My fear ripples through a deep, dark pond, boundless and cold, and doesn’t reflect back to me. It’s swallowed up like music in a soundproofed room; that creepy Doppler Effect when a passing ice cream truck takes on a sinister edge. Every emotion I run through while I pace and panic is similarly absorbed across our bond and it starts a cycle that makes me more and more terrified.

“Stop!” I hiss, threading my fingers in my hair. “Cut it out!”

He wanes. Our bond is raw and we’re supposed to be together while it settles to ease into it, and we’re supposed to see a counselor to help us learn how to respect boundaries and keep from careening into memories and other private things. That’s what’s supposed to happen. It’s like getting married.

I’m left a moment’s respite as Kylo quietly slithers from my mind back to the depths of his own. Breathing heavily, I sag against my kitchen doorway, trembling and stunned. He leaves behind ragged scars in his wake, and the vague threat that he’s going to come storming in whenever he wants. I can’t begin to imagine _ever_ having the willpower to resist him.

Oliver pads over to lick my hand. I pat his head absentmindedly, relieved that I can’t feel Kylo’s pain anymore or the awful, frigid void that saps up my emotions like a sponge. Is he supposed to feel like that? Finn always says Poe feels warm and inviting.

I’m exhausted. I barely have the energy to wash my face before I collapse in bed, then I’m falling asleep, not entirely of my own volition. He’s exhausted, too.


	3. I won't be such an easy mark

There is nothing except eerie silence when I wake up the next morning. I’m not privy to a single dream of Kylo’s, nor one of my own: I wake up, still exhausted, and I feel him on the fringe of my mind; a cold, dark apparition. Silent. Watching.

Oliver follows me to the bathroom and whines outside the door while I shower and get ready. My arms shake and I feel dizzy, disoriented. I try my best to think about work and ignore my soulmate lurking on the periphery like a vulture waiting to swoop in. Is he going to pull me again? Trickle into my mind?

I dress for work like I always do. Downstairs, I feed Oliver breakfast and let him out to do his business. It’s a normal morning by all accounts, and I shuffle around brewing coffee and cooking breakfast, hands trembling. This is fine. I’m going to be fine.

But the hair on the back of my neck stands up as Kylo stirs, a cold breeze across my consciousness. I pause as I crack an egg on my skillet.

It crackles softly as my soulmate drifts within the bounds of my head. The sensation is unbearable—I shudder at the invasion; the violation, and my appetite steadily declines. Maybe I’ll skip breakfast today. I have chicken salad for lunch that should fill me up, and I can bring extra chips just in case.

Oliver paws to come inside. I stare at my half-cooked egg for another second before I let him in, then I scrape it in the trash.

Kylo tugs at the lower left corner of my heart.

Ted is waiting for me in the empty cafeteria when I get to work. Mitaka is already inside the wall, which gives me a couple minutes to figure things out. I’m still too scared to Google my soulmate and I hold out hope that the reality won’t be too bad.

“Kylo?” Ted cocks his head. “What about him?”

“What did he… uh… _do_?”

He raises his eyebrows. “Don’t you watch the news?”

Oh no. He’s on the news?

“No,” I mutter. “Is it bad?”

“Well…” Ted shrugs, folding his thick arms over his chest. He looks sarcastically pensive. “Before he started killing people, he _was_ a psychiatrist.”

The blood drains from my face. My lips tingle and I can’t move them to respond, only nod while he launches into further gleeful detail like he’s telling me the plot of a movie. My soulmate has killed people. Half of my soul is poisoned. Rotting. Evil.

“Uncle turned him in,” Ted says, “but he’s been killin’ girls for a long time. They think over a decade. Nobody even knows how many, either: they only found two bodies on his property, and even then, nobody knows who they are. Killed vagrants. Hookers. Girls nobody cares about.” He laughs at my silence. “Don’t worry, we won’t let him get you. Was pretty worried yesterday, though. He likes—y’know.” He makes a gruesome choking motion, reveling in my silent horror. “Bare hands.”

The tingling spreads up the roof of my mouth and I realize I’m going to vomit. I jerk to my feet to go throw up, ears ringing, when I sense him again.

Kylo eases through the gaps in my mind. I’m hysterical with fear and he’s a numbing balm, soothing the nausea and terror under a thick sheen of frigid comfort. I stand there in shock and sag forward, bracing a hand on the edge of the table. What is he doing? What the hell is he doing?

Ted frowns and stands, holding his arms out unsurely. “Sorry. You okay?”

I can’t breathe. He’s smothering me. He’s suffocating me, and he knows it, and all my fear is being gently absorbed in his endless black void.

“I’m okay,” I manage. My hand prickles in my glove. Kylo is calling me. “Didn’t have breakfast, that’s all.”

“Yeah? Want me to ask Will to grab you a bite? You shouldn’t go in that wall if you’re lightheaded.”

“No, no.” I smile and shake my head. “I’m okay. Thanks, though.”

I want to scream as I crawl into the hellish hot prison in the wall: my soulmate is a serial killer, and he’s in my head. We can’t be apart for much longer like this. I’m going to get sick and so is he, but how does the government deal with a normal person soul-bonding to a _murderer_? Will I have to go to prison, too?

Mitaka waves from his spot in the corner, smiling and sweaty. I wave back and the dizziness worsens. My soulmate is a serial killer. I am so fucking screwed.

“You feeling okay, Rey?” Mitaka asks. He frowns. “You look a little pale.”

All of a sudden, my brain is buzzing. Static cuts off my insistence that I’m doing just fine and comes out as a jumbled slur, twisted with the humidity. The balm melts and I’m left raw and bare to a foreign _something_ like my entire brain is being electrocuted. Vaguely, before I faint, I think it’s a seizure.

Then I faint. So does Kylo.

—•—

When I come to, I’m lying on a cot. It’s quiet and smells like Lysol and hand sanitizer, and there’s a short woman typing on a laptop a few feet away from me. Her blonde hair is cut in a bob and glasses sit low on a short nose. She glances my way and smiles. Ugh… I wince and can’t manage a friendly smile back.

“Hello, Rey,” she says. “Seems like you had a little syncope back there!”

Sunlight streams through the windows far above our heads. We’re alone as far as I can tell and I feel _weird_. Skittering sensations race across my scalp and down to my fingertips like I have more energy to discharge; like my brain is going to go on the fritz again. What the fuck just happened to me?

I swallow, slowly sitting up. “What happened?”

“Low blood sugar and the heat probably made you faint, but you should be okay once you eat and have some juice.” She rolls her stool over to me and puts her stethoscope’s earbuds in. “Let me have a quick listen before I let you go.”

The nurse, who’s badge says BRADY, PATRICIA, listens to my heart before she lets me go. I accept a small carton of orange juice and a couple packets of graham crackers, which I nibble on as I stand.

“Funny,” she says, conversational, “one of the intimates had a seizure the same time you fainted.”

“…Really?”

“Mhm.” Patricia glances up from her laptop and laughs. “Can’t say who—HIPAA—but he sure did.”

Patricia returns to typing and I stare at my juice. No way. No. No, no. We’re sharing his seizures. Holy shit. That’s definitely—that’s definitely bad.

I find Ted and Unkar waiting for me outside the infirmary in an empty, dimly lit hallway. The latter is as pissed as I assumed and snaps at me to take the rest of the day off before he storms away. Ted is concerned, which is a nice change of pace.

He sets his hands on his belt. “You alright? Mitaka said you didn’t hit your head, but…”

“I’m okay. I’ll just go home and eat. Take a nap.”

“You sure? Maybe you should stick around for a bit and eat first. Just in case you pass out again.”

That gives me an idea.

“Can I… request to visit an inmate?” I ask. Terrifying as it is, I have to talk to Kylo sooner or later. I can’t run away from him forever, especially if we’re sharing his seizures.

Ted shrugs and nods. “Sure, usually takes a week to process and stuff. Who did you want to see?”

Fuck. A _week_? Will we survive that?

I pop open my orange juice, trying to be as casual as possible. “Kylo? If I can.”

“…Uh, yeah, if he agrees to it. He had a seizure right around when you fainted. Trish tell you?”

My juice goes down the wrong pipe and I splutter and cough and almost choke to death. Yeah, she told me.

I’m not sure why, but Ted seems determined to be my friend. He escorts me back up to the cafeteria and leads me into the kitchen, where he finds me a Caesar salad and a bigger bottle of orange juice. Now I’m feeling extra hungry, and I make sure to grab my chicken salad from the employee fridge before I go.

My new friend walks me to the exit and reminds me to make sure I eat breakfast the next day. I smile up at him. He’s tall and lanky and seems nice. Why couldn’t he be my soulmate instead?

“I’ll talk to Ren today,” Ted says. “Make sure he agrees to see you. Real interesting guy—creepy as hell but real interesting.”

“Cool, cool. Thanks.”

Ted nods, waving to me even after I’m out the door. Hopefully I don’t have to wait an entire week. I don’t think I’ll make it.

—•—

Researching Kylo seems like unnecessary torture, but I can’t stop thinking about him when I go home. I pace my living room and consider calling Rose a handful of times but what the hell is she going to do do help? Soulmates can’t go unreported and I’ll be really fucked if someone finds out about Kylo.

I sit at my kitchen table and stare at the Christmas-themed placemats I still haven’t put away. Oliver sits next to me with his head tilted, occasionally looking out the glass door at the snow falling through the darkness. It’s quiet. Still.

I’m not going to look him up. I know enough. Besides, he’s been fairly quiet the past few hours since I left work: I can just barely feel him brushing along the edges of my mind, like he’s exhausted and struggling to hold on. Our bond is stretched taut from the distance. The miles mean a lot when it comes to the other half of your soul.

And it can’t go on like this forever. We’ll both die.

My doorbell rings, perking up Oliver and making me finally blink. I push away from the table and follow his clicking nails out to the front room.

Through the peephole I see a tall red headed guy wearing a suit standing outside. He has his hands clasped in front of him and is holding a brown gift bag with a ribbon on the handle. He stares at the door in a way that makes me think he can see me through it.

Oliver growls when I open up. The stranger hands me the bag and turns to leave, silent.

“What—who are you?!” I call.

No response. His black dress shoes click down the steps and he slips into a black Mercedes, then he’s gone, driving off slowly down the empty street.

I stand there in the cold holding the bag for a minute. Oliver sniffs it and doesn’t seem suspicious, but I’ve heard all about how people are poisoned or killed with mysterious gifts, so I take it straight to the garbage can around the back of my house. It could be from Kylo but I don’t want anything from him, anyway. Straight to the trash with it.

—•—

In the morning, there is an identical gift bag waiting on my porch. Oliver chases some birds and I stare at the bag, sensing Kylo watching me.

I check the tag. It’s just my name in elegant calligraphy and nothing else to indicate what’s in the bag or who exactly gave it to me. The strange man in black is gone, but I lean out of the door to check and whistle for Oliver to come inside.

The gift goes straight to the trash before I start getting ready for work. 


	4. You're no better then they say

About two days pass before I’m cleared to see Kylo. More strange gifts show up on my porch and I throw them out, increasingly paranoid that they’re from him and it’s a trick of some kind. He’s a _serial killer_. Maybe he’s sending me his murder weapons.

He’s quiet and still, not showing any signs of weakness even when the distance between us is starting to make me feel ill. Sweating, nausea, and chest pain that almost makes me call an ambulance. I can’t sleep, I can barely eat, and by the time I drag myself into the prison on Saturday for our visit, I’m afraid I might not survive the night.

Ted is off, so a different guard brings me to the visitation room, a big row of booths where people are talking on phones with inmates. I’m wearing my gloves to make sure no one sees the mark and figures out what’s going on but I’m so sweaty and obviously ill that it won’t be much longer.

The guard shows me to a chair at the end of the row, and the aching in my chest is suddenly gone.

Kylo has his hands folded on the desk before him, black hair looped back. His orange jumpsuit is damp around the collar like he’s been sweating, too, but no distress shows on his pale, blank face. He watches me sit, studying me the same way he does through our bond—shrewd and intense and unsettling.

All the relief from being near him again is overwhelmed by the reality of the situation. My hand trembles as I pick up the phone and I drop it, fighting to avoid meeting his dark eyes watching me fumble and struggle. Fuck—fucking—

I huff as I get a hold of it. Kylo raises his eyebrows and I’m forced to meet his gaze as he picks up his own phone off the hook. He doesn’t look away and I find that I _can’t_ look away. His eyes are dark and mesmerizing, every bit the deep, endless lake I perceive from our bond.

It’s terrifying. Fear flickers in my stomach, an instinct to get very far away from him, but the soulmate bond is powerful enough to keep me on the phone.

Kylo searches my face for another moment before he heaves a deep sigh. His head tilts, and he purses his lips like he’s thinking about something important.

“What should I call you, I wonder?” he muses.

“…My name is Rey.”

“Sweetheart?” He carries on, ignoring me, but still fixating me with his penetrating stare. “Dear? _Darling_?” Kylo pauses, drumming his thick fingers on the desk. “You’re such a nervous little thing—so flighty and unsure. I think I’ll call you… dove.”

“My name is Rey,” I repeat. Be firm.

He rolls his head the other way, still tilted, watching me with vague interest.

“Do you think your dog had a given name before you imposed one on him?”

I clench my jaw, trying to hide my fear, but I know he feels it swell in my gut. “My name is _Rey_.”

“We all name our pets against their will, dove. How else will they know to come when they’re called?”

How does he know about Oliver? Has the redheaded guy been stalking me on his behalf? What else does he know—besides how fucking terrified I am right now? He’s going to have me killed, even if it kills him.

We lapse into silence for an awkward minute. Awkward for me. Kylo isn’t so affected by it and just keeps staring and drumming his fingers.

“You’ve been disposing of my gifts,” he says, voice low and soft in my ear.

“I didn’t know they were from you.”

“Oh. I suppose Hux _is_ a man of few words.” He rubs his jaw and shrugs, finally looking away from me. Thank god. “I’ll be sure to send another this evening. Make sure you open it.”

“What is it?”

“You’ll have to wait and see.”

“Is it…” I shift in my chair, nervous. “Illegal?”

Kylo breaks into a slim smile. Leaning back, he rests an elbow on his armrest and strokes his mouth, studying me again. I’ve never felt so small.

“No,” he says, “but I would hate to ruin the surprise for you.” His eyes roam along my face. Calculating. “How much longer do you think you’ll be able to tolerate the distance?”

Not long. I’m on my last legs. I haven’t slept—when I sleep I have horrible nightmares, and when I eat it tastes like dirt. I’m already feeling better just being in his proximity the way I _have_ to be if I don’t want to die. How long can I go? Another day?

I examine my hands instead of answering. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to do.

“I know.”

Kylo is smiling again when I glance up at him—just a slight upward turn of the corners of his lips. I dig my nails into my palm as I sense him drifting around in my head quietly browsing my feelings, and I realize: I can’t hide _anything_ from him. I’m an open book to his silent, cruel curiosity.

I stop breathing as he leans closer, broad body coiled to pounce. He presses his marked hand to the glass and I stiffen at the sight of the twisted scars that match the palms of my hands.

“Go home and enjoy your final day, dove,” he whispers. “We’ll see each other tomorrow.”

Before I can respond, Kylo winks and hangs up his phone. He snaps his fingers as he stands, still smiling down at me, and a guard approaches to push the chair back in behind him. Final day? What does that mean? What is he going to do?

I sit there in dumb silence for a minute, staring at his empty seat. What is he going to do?

Unsettled, I hang up my phone and leave. I’m hardly out to the parking lot before the chest pain comes back with a vengeance.

—•—

Things go from bad to worse.

A new gift bag is waiting on the porch when I get home but I’m so dizzy and delirious that I trip right over it. It’s cold and the sun is setting, soft orange light shrinking along the treeline. I stare at the bag for a long minute before I finally pick it up and go inside.

Oliver hangs back near the kitchen. He usually runs to meet me but I think he can sense something is off: what with the sweating and stumbling and mumbling or wincing when I feel a sharp yank in my chest. He dips his head as I peel off my coat and shuffle down the hall to shower and go to bed early.

I should call Rose—or Finn—someone. Tell them what’s happening. Maybe they can help me.

But I’m sure they can’t.

I toss the gift on my unmade bed and shuffle to my dresser for pajamas. Oliver peers into the room and wags his tail slowly when I call him, hesitating, but walking to my side a second later.

“It’s okay,” I mumble. I scratch behind his ears and shiver at a wave of dizziness. “It’s okay.”

He whimpers and nuzzles my thigh.

After I find an old _D.A.R.E._ T-shirt and clean panties, I somehow make it to the bathroom without falling on my face, and carefully step in the shower. I can’t feel Kylo wandering around in my thoughts but his icy presence still lingers like frostbite. Even my hot shower can’t wash it away.

I think maybe I should research him; look up the crimes he’s committed and confront the inevitable head-on. But I don’t want to believe that my soulmate I’ve been dreaming of is a murderer and a prison inmate. I can’t dispel the only fantasy I’ve ever been able to hold on to.

So I crawl into bed, forgetting the gift at the end of it, and go to sleep instead.

—•—

The doorbell ringing wakes me up in the dead of night. Confused, I blink hard a couple times and groan at the high-pitched buzzing in my ears that’s just making the doorbell that much more torturous to listen to. I’m still alive—somehow.

Oliver raises his head when I sit up and try to stand. My pulse roars in my ears and I bump into my dresser on my way out of the bedroom, covered in sweat, legs trembling. My heart feels like it might explode.

I shuffle to the front door and peer through the peephole. Oliver growls.

A man and woman dressed in black are standing outside staring right back at me. My stomach flips—it’s not Hux, the guy who drops off the gifts from Kylo, but they obviously aren’t here for a friendly chat. They must be government agents, and they know who I am, and they’re here to enforce the law.

Terrified, I back away, heart leaping into my throat. I have to call Rose. I have to call someone before they drag me to prison—

“Miss Niima?” The doorbell rings again. “We’d like to speak with you.”

I stumble back to my bedroom for my cell phone, Oliver rushing behind me. Black presses in on the periphery and the ringing grows louder in my ears. I’m going to faint.

They keep ringing my doorbell and knocking and hysteria creeps up from my stomach; a primal, powerful urge to fucking _run_. I grab my phone and manage to unlock it before the first wave of profound dizziness washes over me, making my fingertips and lips tingle, and I breathe quicker, trembling violently as I try to find Rose in my contacts. Don’t faint. Don’t faint. Don’t—

—•—

“So this occurred when Miss Niima helped you off the floor, Mister Ren—correct?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

It’s not the sound of his voice that wakes me: it’s the gentle, casual way he’s _petting my brain_ , lodged so deep in my skull that’s is physically painful. It drags me awake, huffing out a sharp, uncomfortable gasp at the unwelcome intrusion.

My hands try moving up but I find them restrained on either side of me, and as someone whispers my name I manage to blink my eyes open.

I’m in the prison infirmary and I’m not alone. Two guards stand near the door but are swept out of sight by a curtain quickly drawn around my bed by the nurse, and sitting a couple feet away is my soulmate and one of the people in black who came to my door.

He’s wearing his jumpsuit and is shackled by the wrists and ankles but that doesn’t protect me. Our eyes meet and his gentle ministrations turn violent, talons slashing into my brain with no warning. _Be quiet_.

The woman notices him watching me and glances my way, then clears her throat.

“Mister Ren. Let’s let Miss Niima wake up.”

His dark eyes wander away and I’m abruptly set free. I gasp again, squirming on the cot but unable to speak. Why am I being restrained? What did I do?

The woman in the black suit can’t be much older than me, and doesn’t smile or offer any explanation. She’s typing something on an iPad and seems more concerned with that than anything else. Her blonde hair is drawn up in a tight bun.

“This is a unique situation,” she says, “and we’ll need some time to decide how to proceed. It’s likely you’ll be put under house arrest at Miss Niima’s residence but for now she’ll be held here. We’ve arranged for a session with a soulbond interventionist.” She raises her eyebrows, pressing her lips together. “At taxpayer expense.”

“Oh I’m sure they won’t mind that.”

Patricia, the nurse, comes to sit in a chair at my side. Now my eyes are wide because I’m scared out of my fucking mind but she doesn’t free my wrists.

She pats my hand. “It’s okay, honey. I’m sorry—the agents insisted on this.” She tries to smile but it doesn’t put me at all at ease. “You’ll be fine.”

The pain and discomfort of being separated from Kylo is gone but cold, crippling terror has taken its place. My lower lip quivers and my eyes flicker to him watching me from the table, unblinking, and he slowly smiles. He undulates his long fingers in a menacing greeting.

I stare, hyperventilating. I can’t speak. I can’t look away. Patricia brushes my hair from my face and he softly asks her to refrain from touching his soulmate—and she does, jaw clenched. No no no. He can’t do that. He can’t do that.

The agent shakes her head and heaves a sigh.

“This is just going to be a _nightmare_.”


	5. And all the candles on the cake

Just like in my worst nightmares, I’m denied a lawyer.

Though _denied_ isn’t really accurate: I’m ignored no matter how many times I rasp ‘I’d like a lawyer, please’ until I’m demanding a lawyer as they drag me down an empty cellblock with my new soulmate in tow. The agent ignores me, the guards ignore me, and I’m pulled into a cramped cell.

“The Sixth Amendment—I have a right to an attorney!” I insist, nearing hysteria. “I have rights! You can’t just throw me in jail!”

My chest tightens as Kylo comes around the corner, placid as always, quietly thanking the guards as they bring him into the cell. He lets them unlock his restraints and casts me a lackadaisical glance while they do. I’m terrified of the guards but I’m even more terrified that they’re going to leave us alone together.

He’s a fucking serial killer. They can’t just leave me alone with a serial killer.

I try pushing past a guard and he stops me, grabbing my arm. Fear kicks up and I struggle to escape his hold, which just makes him shove me on the bottom bunk of the bed. Kylo rubs his wrists and turns to wave as both guards step out—and lock the door behind them.

I’m suddenly alone with my soulmate and it makes my stomach turn, like waiting for the jump scare in a horror movie. My lower lip quivers and my gaze snaps to Kylo, still watching the door with his back turned to me, idly rubbing his wrists. The guards stand outside but _their_ backs are turned and I know no one is going to interfere with soulmates. No one ever does.

Kylo sighs. Clicks his tongue. “I wanted to give you more time—but you were so ill that it couldn’t wait.”

He turns and offers me his usual slight smile that makes my skin crawl. This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening. They can’t hold me here. They have no right—I have _rights_ and there are processes—

Cold tendrils brush across my mind and raise the hair on the back of my neck. Kylo tilts his head, invading my skull like he always does with casual indifference bordering on cruelty. He’s violating me and no one can stop him and no one will. I’ve felt the hollow echo of his inner world ringing against mine and I know—there isn’t a shred of humanity there to appeal to.

He approaches, shushing me like I’m a spooked animal when I recoil. I’m trembling violently as he sits on the edge of the bunk and carries on his gentle assault in my head like nothing is happening, sifting through my emotions so deeply that I’m sure he can read my thoughts.

Kylo searches my face. His dark eyes pin me in the corner.

“Hux went to take care of your dog. Oliver.”

“Don’t hurt him,” I rasp. I’m scared shitless but thinking of Oliver being hurt is enough to unstick my tongue.

“He has no intention of hurting your dog. Don’t worry, dear.”

Kylo skitters along my raw fear. He’s close—cold, endless, and still. He can swallow me alive.

His long fingers gently loop around my ankle, squeezing in what _should_ be a comforting touch. My scarred palms tingle.

“Did you open your gift?” he asks. I shake my head and Kylo frowns. “Hm. Hux will bring another by later. He’s attempting to intercept the interventionist right about…” He glances at a clock outside the cell. “Now.”

“Intercept?” I echo.

“Well I certainly don’t want anyone teaching you how to wall yourself off to me. That just starts things off in a bad place, don’t you think?”

I stare. If a soulbond interventionist doesn’t come to help me—if he really does repel all of them—I won’t learn how to keep him out of my head. But he can’t do that. There are a lot of them and Hux can’t possibly bully every single one.

“You can’t do that,” I stammer.

“There’s no need to worry, Rey.” He traces my ankle bone with the tip of her finger, gaze roaming down my pajama top. “Your lawyer will be here long before an interventionist arrives. We’ll be home within a day or two, no government-mandated brainwashing necessary.”

“I—I didn’t call a lawyer.”

Kylo nods, smiling. His nail curves along my heel.

“I know. I handled it for you.”

Voices float from down the hall at that precise moment. It strikes me that he’s six steps ahead of everyone else—even in prison, bound in chains, he’s somehow orchestrating things the way he wants them to go. He’s smart. _Too_ smart.

I really don’t stand a chance.

“I don’t _care_ about the inmate; you have my client wrongfully imprisoned!”

Kylo stands and beckons me to follow. People are arguing as they approach and I hesitantly get up, curious to see what the lawyer will say.

She’s bickering with the agent: she’s tall and has red hair back in a ponytail, and waves flippantly to the guards, then to Kylo. He waves back and motions for me to come closer but I’m not keen on standing next to him. Hard pass.

“If she’s removed then our inmate could _die_ ,” the agent snaps. “Since he is imprisoned for several consecutive life sentences, it only makes sense for Miss Niima to remain here for the time being.”

“Miss Niima has committed _no_ crime and wasn’t even afforded the opportunity to call a lawyer. I can’t begin to list the ways you’ve violated her constitutional rights but if you don’t release her right this minute, I’m going to sue you straight out of those Louboutins.”

The agent bristles. “And what do you presume I do with Mister Ren?”

“Doctor,” Kylo corrects softly.

“He’s _your_ inmate and keeping him separated from his soulmate sounds like cruel and unusual punishment to me.” The lawyer snaps her fingers, glaring between the guards. “Hey, Lurch and Lenny—open this cell before I put your names in the lawsuit, too.”

That begins a new round of arguing but the door is opened and I’m let out. The guards don’t let Kylo pass and close the cell again with him still inside. He’s still smiling faintly, amused by the fight.

“You’ll have to arrange for house arrest,” the lawyer snaps.

“He’s a _serial killer_!”

“And Miss Niima is an innocent woman. Your poor security led to her accidentally encountering Mister Ren in the first place!”

“Doctor,” Kylo corrects again, mildly.

The agent pinches the bridge of her nose. She squeezes her eyes shut.

“We need Miss Niima to remain on the premises until we figure this out.” She glares at me. “Which shouldn’t be an issue, considering she’ll also die if she moves too far from Mis—Doctor Ren.”

“No,” the lawyer says. She shrugs. “You have no legal recourse. Move Doctor Ren or we’ll see you in court _very_ soon.”

There’s a long pause. No way. They aren’t going to let him out of prison. There… there has to be another solution. Maybe they can separate us.

But the agent gives a sharp nod to the guards. “Let him out. You two will be escorting us and stay behind to make sure he doesn’t leave the house.” She takes out a cell phone and gives the lawyer a dirty look. “I hope Miss Niima’s personal freedom is worth the risk we’re about to take.”

I stare at her as she stalks off to make a call. The cell opens behind me but I don’t turn to look. I’m not sure which place is worse to be in: prison, or home.

—•—

It isn’t peaceful and quiet when we get back to my house. Police are lined up outside waiting, and more federal agents are talking to them motioning to my backyard. They’re figuring out how they’re going to keep my soulmate from escaping—how to trap him inside with me. Alone.

My lawyer leads me up to my house and repels anyone who tries to talk to me. I slip inside and almost cry when Oliver comes running from down the hall, tail wagging. At least he’s okay.

“You can’t install cameras in a private fucking residence.” My lawyer, Bonnie, is on the warpath again. “I don’t care if Mist—Doctor Ren lives here. You can’t monitor Miss Niima and she will be inevitably caught in the middle!”

The front door shuts. I’m alone, no soulmate in sight, though I can feel him pulling me from outside. I hug Oliver and sink to the floor, burying my face in his fur and breaking down into tears. They’re going to let him live in my house. No help is coming.

And on the periphery of my mind, Kylo gently circles like a vulture, ominous. Silent. My terror is drawn away but leaves behind an empty space that shouldn’t be there, an unnatural vacuum that just keeps sucking me dry. Nothing reflects back. It’s consumed within him, in an abyss I don’t think I’ll ever be able to see to the bottom of.

Oliver licks my face, whimpering. The door handle turns and I hug him tighter.


	6. All set fire to the gate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry not 2k words but adding to this chap would be ... pointless

“Cameras would ensure the protection of Miss Niima and the containment of Mister Ren. They’re very necessary—unless she would _prefer_ to have privacy with a serial killer.”

Bonnie is arguing with the federal agent—Laura—in my kitchen. Laura insists cameras need to be installed in and around my trailer to monitor Kylo and ‘protect’ me but I’m fairly certain that no matter what happens, I’m not going to be protected in any way.

In fact, I’m almost positive of that, because Kylo is sitting in the armchair across from my couch with a satisfied smile on his face. His legs are crossed politely and his hands are clasped in his lap, and he’s just watching me sitting ramrod straight on the couch between two other federal agents. They’re men, about twice my size and wearing shades. Unfriendly.

“Last I checked it’s illegal to intervene in a soulmate relationship without a license,” Bonnie retorts.

“Well the interventionist isn’t coming and we won’t have one out here for at least another week. Do you expect me to leave your client alone with a _serial killer_ for a week, Miss Williams?”

“Mister Ren was always an innocent man, _Miss Hanes_ , and I resent…”

Their bickering turns to background noise. Kylo heaves a sigh and shakes his head.

“I keep reminding them I’m a doctor,” he says, dark eyes wandering between the two agents. He rolls his eyes and waves a shackled hand. “I _did_ go to med school.”

Neither of the agents speak. I don’t, either. Oliver is sitting in front of me between my knees with his ears pinned back, growling softly in Kylo’s direction.

My phone has rung a couple times and I’m pretty sure it’s Rose calling to check on me but I’ve been told not to answer it. It vibrates again on the coffee table, buzzing and shifting a couple centimeters, and my eyes flicker to it. I stare until I feel Kylo staring at me in turn and when I look up, he just tilts his head and offers me a slim smile.

“Rose?” he murmurs, and my heart sinks. “I’m sure she’s concerned. This will be all over the news tomorrow.”

“Don’t hurt her,” I croak. Hux can apparently get things done—I just want him to stay away from her.

Kylo raises his eyebrows but doesn’t respond.

My lawyer argues the agent down to withholding indoor cameras until a case can be brought up in court. They agree to monitor the perimeter of my property and station two guards within two hundred feet of the premises: all without consulting me.

My voice squeaks. “You can put cameras inside. For my protection. Right?”

Laura sniffs and avoids my eyes as her two agents stand. She’s annoyed and Bonnie is happy so I have a feeling I’m fucked.

“These soulbonds are sacred things,” she says. “Legally, even if he were to attack you in some way, Miss Niima, we aren’t permitted to intervene.”

“That doesn’t make sense!” I exclaim, shaking my head. I ignore Kylo’s stare as I stand. “If we’re the same person—you wouldn’t let someone hurt themselves, right? So why will you let him hurt me?!”

“Only an interventionist can assist in—”

“That’s _bullshit_!” I hiss. “That’s ridiculous! He’s a fucking serial killer!”

“Mister Ren’s guilt is another matter entirely,” Bonnie interjects. She puts her purse over her shoulder. “Any suffering he inflicts on you will be reflected to him twofold, and he certainly can’t cause any grievous harm. If you have several thousand dollars lying around Miss Niima, I would be happy to stay for the evening to supervise.”

Kylo sighs. “Doctor Ren, please.”

“Regardless.” Laura checks her watch. “It’s time for us to leave. There are two prison guards patrolling the property and soon we should have an idea of the alterations we’ll be permitted to make to the house. Iron bars, motion sensors.”

“Nothing at all,” Bonnie adds.

People patrolling my property doesn’t protect me from him at all—but they don’t care about that. Our bond is supposed to be a deep sacred thing untouchable by the law but I don’t know how often people have soulbonds with _serial killers_.

And then, as I feared—they leave, and I’m left alone in my living room with my shackled soulmate. Oliver looks up at me. I just stare at the door for a while.

A soft whistle like a bird song comes from behind me. I swallow a lump.

“Come sit with me, dove.”

I don’t want to. I need to lock myself in the bedroom, or maybe the bathroom, and hope I survive the night.

“Your new gift is in the bedroom.” His voice is soft. “Why don’t you bring it out here so we can open it together?”

“I don’t want to.”

“I think you’re going to like it.”

I can feel his eyes drilling into the back of my head just like his disembodied fingers picking through my brain. Kylo is still shackled by the wrists and ankles but that isn’t stopping him.

A shiver runs up my spine as he sighs softly.

“Look at how much you _hurt_ —so twisted up inside.”

Gently, he buries his fingers in my mind, a slow kind of torture that makes the hair on my nape stand on end. I wince and stagger a step into the hall, immediately breaking out in a cold sweat as he casually stimulates deeply-buried memories into painfully resurfacing. They bubble and form vague shapes and I can’t help myself—I grab a framed picture of Rose and me and throw it at Kylo’s head.

He ducks to avoid it and raises his eyebrows. I glare at him, trembling and willing myself not to cry.

“Stop,” I rasp.

“But I want to know all about you.”

“You can’t just take things without asking! You can’t pick through my thoughts like they’re a fucking magazine!”

“They’re only memories,” Kylo soothes, deep voice heavy in my ears. He searches my face but holds off picking my brain. “You’re not a helpless little girl anymore, Rey. Do you still feel like you are?”

“Shut up.”

“You feel helpless right now.” He smiles and stares at me and nausea turns my stomach. “Afraid I’m going to touch you—and I will.”

I shift my jaw from side to side to keep from crying, then turn and stalk off to my bedroom.

Oliver follows and hangs by the door to watch the hall when I walk in, fists clenched, angry tears welling up. I notice a new gift is waiting on the bed, red bag, white tissue paper sticking out from the top. I snatch it, crinkling the bag until my knuckles turn white and debating throwing it at his face. What can he possibly do with his ankles and wrists restrained?

Kylo taps his fingertips together when I come storming back down the hall with the gift bag. I glower at him as I pull out the fucking thing he’s gifted to me a half dozen times, half expecting a severed finger.

“I’m not _scared_ of you!” I snap, voice wavering, “and I don’t care what you think you saw… in…”

It’s a nightlight, one of those plug-in ones shaped like a horse. Memories come back unprompted; vague aching and wishing from seeing it on TV and wanting it more than anything. I drop the bag and Oliver immediately comes over to investigate, sniffing noisily, and I turn the thing over in my hands, heart pounding. I remember this. Seeing the ads.

“You always wanted one when you were small.”

I glance up and find Kylo watching me, long fingers clasped in his lap. I’m sure he’s satisfied by the stunned look on my face but I don’t know how to pretend I’m not floored.

He smiles. “A fear of the dark is more common than a fear of heights, you know. Eleven percent of the population is afraid of the dark. We can work through it whenever you’re ready.”

My head spins. The nightlight feels heavy in my palm.

Wooden, I shuffle to my bedroom again with the dog in tow. He sits near the door when I close it and licks my hand after I turn the lock.

I drop the nightlight on my bedside table and sit on the edge of my bed to stare at it for a while. I’m not sure what else to do.


	7. Turn the cannons towards the boat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so until AO3 changes the anon hit count issue, I’m considering moving my active fics to private. this means people viewing as guests/anons will not be able to see them. it can be fixed by making an AO3 account.
> 
> right now every guest who views my fics isn’t being counted, and i average about 2-3k hits per chapter. normally i don’t mind silent readers but i do mind that their presence won’t be counted at all. i’m still thinking and may start with putting a new fic on private to get an idea of what will happen but just a warning to people who read my fics and don’t have AO3 accounts

Morning comes. Like it always does.

For a while I lie there in bed staring at the ceiling, trying to ignore Oliver whimpering for his breakfast. What if Kylo escaped his handcuffs? What if he’s just waiting for me to come wandering into his web? I should’ve taken that self defense class with Rose.

Rose. Fuck—my phone is somewhere out in the kitchen and he could’ve easily gotten to it.

I slowly sit up and run a hand through my hair before I get out of bed. My legs feel weak; I’m so nervous I can feel my heart beating in my throat. I have to at least get my phone and feed the dog. Let him out. He can’t stay cooped up inside forever.

Oliver wags his tail when I shuffle to the bedroom door. Trembling, I flex my fingers a couple times, mind racing with the horrible possibilities. Kylo kills me. Kylo kills my dog.

It should be easier to prod his mind like he does to mine. Why can’t I slip into his thoughts and pick out those creepy little things: the childish fears and wishes that never came true? Even someone like Kylo has to be afraid of _something._ But all I ever feel is cold and endless darkness and it’s like screaming into a black hole. Nothing out.

I turn the handle and peer out. Oliver doesn’t have my hang ups and trots down the hall to the living room, tail wagging lower as he gets to the end. Kylo must still be sitting there. Won’t he have to… shower? And eat? And use the bathroom?

 _Yes_ —and I wasn’t exactly left a handbook on how to do those things without getting murdered.

Palms sweating, I step from my bedroom and gently close the door behind me. I wipe my hands on my shirt as I pad down the hallway and hope he isn’t waiting for me around the corner. He won’t kill me. Right? Then we’ll both die.

“Good morning, dear.”

He calls out before he sees me, voice soft and friendly. I try to get a hold of myself before I edge into the living room, fists balled like I would ever stand a chance fighting him. It’s okay. It’s okay. The federal government will help. They’ll be back with cameras and more agents and everything will be fine.

Kylo is still sitting in the chair where I left him, big hands folded politely in his lap. He tilts his head and watches me sidle along the wall towards the kitchen. Did he just sit there all night?

“Did you like the nightlight?” he asks.

“Stay away from me.” I grope blindly along the island in search of a weapon. “I mean it.”

“I’m all the way over here, Rey.”

I open a drawer and find a big knife that I brandish in his direction. He raises his eyebrows and watches me struggle to feed Oliver while holding the knife and keeping an eye on him. This is ridiculous.

Once the dog is eating I set about making myself coffee and getting the cereal down, but that means I have to turn my back on Kylo. I grit my teeth, debating if it’s worth the risk—his wrists and ankles are bound and I don’t think he can walk very well. I’d hear him before he came up behind me.

“Could I trouble you for a trip to the bathroom?” he calls.

I ignore him and quickly turn to reach up for my cereal. He hasn’t budged when I hop down from the counter but is studying me with a slim smile.

I adjust my shirt. “I don’t have a key for your… restraints.”

“I believe our friend Agent Wilson left them in the vase near the door.” He holds out his wrists. “If you would be so kind.”

“I’m not doing that.”

“Then I’m going to need your help getting undressed and going to the bathroom.”

I cringe at the prospect of stripping him. He’d still be restrained that way but I have to _strip him_ and using the bathroom wouldn’t be easy with no hands or feet. Can’t leave him sitting there, either. I _could_ but… that would be cruel.

But—there should be guards outside patrolling the property. Maybe they can come in to supervise. I grab my keys and whistle for Oliver before I go out to see. Kylo waves goodbye.

The two guards are sitting across the street in a black Suburban, and look surprised to see me. I hustle over in my pajamas and neither takes off their sunglasses or addresses me. They’re sipping coffees, and my breath curls in the cold morning.

“Hey,” I attempt, awkwardly, crossing my arms with a shiver. “Um—he needs to shower and use the bathroom and stuff, so could someone come in to keep an eye on him?”

“Can’t intervene,” the one on the driver’s side says.

“Well it’s not intervening, it’s just keeping an eye on him so he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

Shakes his head. “Can’t do it. Sorry. Can only intervene if he leaves the house.”

“So I’m supposed to unlock his handcuffs and let him freely roam my fucking house with no one around to watch? He’ll kill me.”

“He can’t,” adds the second one, incredulous. “You’ll both die.”

I roll my eyes. “What if he _rapes_ me?”

“Soulmates can’t rape each other,” the driver snips.

“I know it’s technically not illegal, but he’s a serial killer and I don’t want to have sex with him.”

Both men look terribly uncomfortable. Which is good—they deserve it. Driver exchanges a glance with passenger because we’re once again at an impasse: technically it isn’t illegal for a soulmate to have sex with their soulmate, consensual or not. Same person. No one wants to intervene. You can’t separate soulmates, so what do you do? We’re supposed to instinctively protect each other.

The driver shrugs. “It will keep him from hurting other people, right? Don’t you think that’s _your_ responsibility?”

I clench my jaw. “I didn’t ask to be his fucking soulmate and didn’t ask to be his babysitter.”

“Didn’t ask for mine, either,” chips in the passenger, “but she’s still my responsibility.”

“Has she killed people?!” I snap.

“…No. But still.”

Ugh. I thank them for doing nothing and storm back to my trailer with Oliver trotting at my heels. No one is going to help me. I feel like I’m in a zoo.

Kylo smiles when I walk inside and holds out his wrists as I search for the keys. I could leave him there until Bonnie or Laura come back but the more uncomfortable he gets, the more I’ll be able to feel it.

I find them at the bottom of the drawer and wonder why he didn’t set himself free. I turn to look at him and anxiety claws up my chest. He just wanted me to do it—be complicit. He would probably sit in the chair forever waiting for me to finally break.

“Very rude of them not to help,” Kylo says, shaking his head.

The key is heavy in my hand; cold glinting steel. I squeeze it in my palm. Maybe I can just help him get undressed. At least his hands won’t be free.

“We’ll both die if you kill me,” I remind him.

“I’m not going to kill you, Rey.” He jangles his wrists lightly. “You’re not my type.”

Kylo smirks at my glare and politely waits while I unlock his wrists. Oliver sits and watches me crouch to free his feet, then I snatch up the cuffs to hide somewhere he won’t find them. I don’t want to wake up chained to my own bed.

My soulmate rubs his wrists with his long fingers and heaves a sigh. He stands, slowly, towering over me and my dog, and I take a nervous step back. Oliver growls softly and presses against the side of my knee. He’s bigger than I remember. More menacing.

He stretches his arms. “Thank you, dove. Much better.”

“The bathroom is down the hall.” I set a hand on Oliver’s head, swallowing a lump. “Please don’t hurt my dog.”

Kylo rolls his eyes and waves me off, already wandering down the hall.

“Always with the dog. I’m not going to hurt your dog—what’s the fun in shooting fish in a barrel?”

He opens and closes the bathroom door and I feel like I just made a huge mistake. I look down at Oliver and he looks up at me, cocking his head.

What else was I supposed to do? Should I have thought it through more, or is it my responsibility to keep him on a leash?

Anxious, I search for my phone in the kitchen and find a shit ton of texts from Rose. She’s worried and saw the news—no names yet but they showed my trailer and people know Kylo is living in it. Fuck. I’m sure some of his victims or their families are still alive. What if they come here looking for revenge? Would they use me to kill _him_?

I rub my forehead and reassure her that I’m okay for now, but fucking terrified. She offers to have Finn come over to supervise but I’m afraid Kylo will hurt him so I tell her to stay away for now. How am I supposed to do fucking anything anymore? Work, visit friends, go grocery shopping? If he has to be with me; if the distance will kill us, what am I supposed to do?

While I stand there, terror growing in my stomach like a virus, something buzzes through my skull. I think it’s Kylo trying to pick my brain but the buzzing erupts into a dull roar, my ears ring, and I black out.

—•—

Something wet is patting my forehead.

My first instinct is to push Oliver away—I assume it’s him licking me to make me feel better—but I touch a very human wrist that makes me groan. My stomach is in knots and I’m _exhausted_ and my head hurts like I just drank my way through a bottle of Jack.

“Stay still, dove. Stay still.”

The familiar deep voice makes me open my eyes, squinting and blinking hard. No. No. No.

Kylo is sitting beside me on my bed, gently patting my forehead with a cloth. He smiles but clicks his tongue disapprovingly when I try to move, gasping, squirming and shaking my head. No—no—

“The humidity in the bathroom triggered a seizure,” he sighs. “You must have fainted and hit your head. Poor little thing.”

“Get… get away…”

I’m fully dressed and I can’t pick out any weird sensations that mean he might’ve touched me. He’s still wearing his orange jumpsuit, the brightest thing in my bedroom besides Oliver’s confused eyes watching me from the foot of my bed. I reach out and my dog carefully crawls up to my side.

“Unfortunately there will be more seizures until Hux brings my medication.” Kylo idly bats away my hand pawing at his wrist. “Relax. You’re post-ictal _and_ your head is bleeding.”

He carries on dabbing the sore spot on my head. I grimace and try to twist away but he’s strong, easily grasping both my wrists in one hand to keep me from escaping. Where did I hide the handcuffs? Is he going to handcuff me to the bed?

I start crying, petrified, and he coos and murmurs and smiles down at me. My hands tremble in his grasp.

“Please d-don’t—please don’t—” I take a quivering breath, trying to get a hold of myself, and burst into tears again.

Kylo sets aside the cloth on the nightstand and shushes me, leaning over to brush my hair from my face. My skin tingles where he touches but I can hardly see him through the tears.

He widens on my horizons, creeping in toward me like the first hint of frost in the winter. I suck in increasingly anxious breaths as he encroaches on all my raw fear, freezing it over, or maybe draining it into his black abyss of a soul.

I grab his shirt, heart racing. Holy shit.

“I know,” he whispers. Lips brush my forehead. “I can see the things you’ve chosen to forget.”

Kylo extricates himself from me and casually goes to my closet. He picks around in it for a minute until he finds an old teddy bear I’ve had since childhood, something I clung to on the nights Unkar came home drunk and calling my name. He plugs in the nightlight I left sitting on my nightstand and pushes the bear in my arms—and I’m dragged back to being eight years old, shaking like a leaf in my bed.

He sets one hand on the headboard to hover over me and I stare into his dark eyes, mesmerized, emotion drained so I can’t cry anymore. My lower lip quivers but nothing happens. I hiccup and stare and he smiles.

“You should rest,” he murmurs. “You’ve had a very hard morning.”

“Please.” I don’t know what I’m begging for, but I can’t stop. “Please… please…”

“Shh… shh…” He cups my cheek and draws his thumb through the tears. “Go to sleep, little one.”

The cold swells and presses on my brain like a thick cloud. I don’t want to sleep—I’m scared of him and the other things that tend to come for me when I’m unconscious—but I pass out anyway, Oliver curled against my side.


	8. Men were drowning in the moat

“She’s beautiful, don’t you think?”

Dark memories slide back to the abyss where I hide them away, consciousness scattering the gloomy haze. My eyes are heavy from crying and hard to open. It feels like I’m dreaming; feels like I’m still floating in the limpid pool of my soulmate.

Someone grunts. “Tolerable. What should I do about the friend?”

Cold fingers brush my cheek. It’s him—Kylo. Fuck. I can’t bear to look at him. I try to keep my breathing even and hope he thinks I’m still asleep.

“The authorities should keep her from coming by again,” he muses. “But I suppose you could swing by her apartment to reassure her.”

“How so?”

Oh no. No no no.

Kylo clicks his tongue and his fingers gently comb through my hair. I’m desperate to beg him to leave her alone but I get a vague sense that he _wants_ me to beg, and his mind is made up either way. He ripples, the first stirring of life I’ve ever felt from him.

“Be as charming as you can manage, Armitage,” he says after a long pause. “I’ve already given Rey my word that she won’t be harmed.”

“Fine. Takes the _fun_ out of it.”

Footsteps move away, but only one person’s. Kylo carries on running his long fingers through my hair and I hope he can’t feel the rush of relief surging through me. If I were unconscious I wouldn’t be relieved, but I can’t exactly shut it off. I wish I could. That would make life so much easier.

Everything is quiet for a couple minutes and I think I’m home free—until he taps my nose.

“I know you’re awake, Rey.”

Shit. I wince, and hesitantly open an eye.

Kylo isn’t wearing his jumpsuit: now it’s a cable-knit gray sweater and dress slacks like he’s going out somewhere, and his hair is clean and parted and… I think he put product in it. He’s standing over me and I have my arms locked around my teddy bear, still under the sheets in my pajamas. Maybe I _am_ dreaming.

He smiles, tilting his head, and brushes my hair back from my face with a lazy draw of his index finger.

“I see you when you’re sleeping,” he sings in a low distracted tone, tracing my hairline, “I know when you’re awake.”

My skin tingles where he touches like invisible bugs are sprouting from his fingertips and racing into my scalp. I stare up at him and grope helplessly for something to say, like _don’t touch me_ , but it’s stuck in my throat. He lapses into humming the song as he sweeps his big hand under my jaw, running his thumb across my lower lip.

“Don’t like Christmas music?” he asks, frowning. His nail skims my upper lip. “I know you like Nine Inch Nails. Tool. Assorted Taylor Swift songs.”

I jerk away and he doesn’t try to stop me. His hand hovers in the empty space for a moment and he slowly closes his fingers.

I can’t deal with him picking around in my brain like this. I’m nauseous thinking about all the things he’s seen, like Unkar coming to my bedroom and all my awkward attempts at sex that never went anywhere. That has to be the first place he combed over. It’s the most embarrassing. I’m too old to be a virgin but I get nauseous and uncomfortable when people touch me because I’m just not _used_ to it in a good way—

Kylo watches me scramble out of bed and hurl the teddy bear across the room, desperate to be rid of it. I run a hand through my hair and take a shuddering breath. I’m fine. That’s all behind me.

“I don’t like being touched, either.”

His voice soothes and terrifies me and my insides twist up even more. I shoot him a glare, chewing my cheek, and he nods. Yeah _right_.

“Where’s my dog?” I snap.

“I only like touching _you_. Being touched _by_ you.”

Agitated, I whistle for Oliver and hear the familiar patter of his paws. He slinks by Kylo and wags his tail again when he comes up to me, and I kneel and hug him and check for injuries. Seems okay.

Kylo sits on the edge of my bed. “You’ve been asleep for quite a while. We had dinner and breakfast and I let him out.” He clasps his hands in his lap, sighing. “Very energetic.”

“He’s a puppy, so…” I kiss his snout.

“Something safe for you to touch.”

 _Ugh._ I roll my eyes and get up to find something to wear. I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of knowing how terrified I am. He can see it—feel it. I’m going to take a shower, brush my teeth, get dressed, and go about my day like he doesn’t exist.

I find jeans and a flannel, my usual go-to, and whistle for Oliver to follow me. He trots at my heels down the hall to the bathroom and I bring him in, slamming the door behind us.

—•—

The shower makes me feel a little better. I don’t risk using my toothbrush—who knows if he did something with it—and scrub my teeth with my index finger instead. Oliver sits politely near the door and wags his tail when I unlock it, clean and fully dressed. I’ll take him outside to run around for a bit. Like I always do.

I peer down the hallway and don’t see Kylo in my bedroom. Oliver is already around the corner, probably going to betray me.

My soulmate is sitting on the couch reading a book and smiles when the dog sits next to his legs. He closes the book and pets Oliver as I sidle into my living room like I don’t belong there. Where did he get clothes? Is he allowed to change? He pats the cushion beside him, and my dog looks over his shoulder at me with his tongue hanging out of his mouth.

“Come sit,” Kylo says.

“What’s your henchman going to do to Rose?”

He frowns. “ _Do_ to her?”

“Is he… will he hurt her?”

“Of course not. I’m not an animal, Rey.”

“You’ve killed people,” I retort, crossing my arms. “You keep—you’re violating me.”

Kylo raises his eyebrows and his expression seems genuinely affronted. He’s cold and still inside. Like a corpse. A lake I’m going to drown in.

“You’re my soulmate,” he says, softly, like he’s talking to an errant child.

“That doesn’t give you the _right_ —”

“I’m only trying to help you. Ease some of the pain.” He searches my face, still stroking Oliver’s head. “You’re in so much pain.”

“Only when you start bringing things up!”

He clicks his tongue, shaking his head and staring at me. “Wounds left to fester will seep into the bloodstream, Rey. Treating them can hurt in the beginning, but you’ll be numb to the pain soon enough—and the healing can begin.”

I’m torn between continuing to tell him off and walking away. He probably wants me to keep arguing. I bet he likes how stressed out and angry I am.

But his smug fucking face makes me boil with rage, and he saps it up like a sponge. It’s hard to keep it under control when we’re alone like this and he’s egging me on and drawing out complicated feelings that make me defensive and furious. Even though I know it’s what he wants, I can’t resist.

Kylo glances back at the kitchen. I’m free for a minute, and it’s like a breath of fresh air that sweeps out the blind rage.

“Would you like something to eat?” he asks. “You must be hungry.”

“I don’t need your permission to eat in my house.”

“Of course not.” He smiles as he stands and I take a step back. “Only trying to help, little one. Hux brought my medication so we shouldn’t have another seizure snafu like we did yesterday.”

I watch Kylo lumber out to the kitchen like he’s done it a thousand times. He’s unhurried and tepid in all things, but I know it has to be an act. Calm people don’t become serial killers. Right?

Oliver follows me as I wander closer, morbidly curious. He opens the fridge and takes out something in a glass dish—it looks like a big egg.

“Quiche,” Kylo corrects, automatically, mildly. He sets it on the island and shrugs. “Apologies.”

“Stop… stop doing that.”

He sighs and peels off the clear wrapping. I’ve never had quiche. I’ve heard of it.

“I would if I could.” He opens a cabinet and takes out a plate, then finds a serving knife in the drawer. “Unfortunately I am very deeply attuned to your passing thoughts and feelings. Like a buzzing in my ear. Fascinating little thing.”

“Well you’re blocking me,” I say. I’m hanging by the doorway, keeping an eye on the knife on his hand.

“It’s for the best, dove. Maybe when I finish your bloodletting you can peruse my mind. Maybe.”

He slices a piece of quiche and cuts a very thin section for Oliver. I stare as my dog walks over, sits, and happily snaps up the treat. He’s a serial killer. He’s a serial killer. Why is he making quiche in my kitchen?

Kylo turns on the oven, humming. “It’s best reheated in the oven. I hope you don’t mind waiting a few more minutes.”

“I’m… I’m allergic…”

“I know.” He doesn’t look at me. “No broccoli.”

Fuck. “I’ll just have cereal.”

“Oh. Well, if that’s what you’d like.”

He casually turns, whistling now, and my stomach drops when he plucks a box of cereal from my spot on top of the fridge. Frosted Cheerios. I love them but I never eat them because—

“I know you weren’t permitted sugary food, but… it doesn’t hurt to indulge every once in a while.” Kylo sets the box down on the island and smiles at my anxious stare. “What a gluttonous man Unkar is, stealing so many bits of pieces of happiness from my little dove.”

I clench my jaw. He’s sweeping close to the sore spots again and he _knows it_.

Kylo leans on the counter, smiling, but it’s a tight, awkward smile that makes his dark eyes look jet black. Another ripple ticks at the fringe of my mind; a morsel of something too fleeting to place.

“No matter.” His expression loosens. “His time will come.”

I tense. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing, dear.” Kylo shakes the box of Cheerios and pushes it closer to me. “If you won’t try my quiche you should at least have a bowl of cereal. I think you deserve the extra sugar.”

Blood pounds in my ears. I hate Unkar but I don’t think I want him to die. Is he going to kill him? That was years ago. He was drunk. I’m over it.

I cave and get my bowl of cereal with whole milk. While I sit at the island and eat, Kylo watches and smiles.


	9. It was the end of all rowers oars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh I forgot:
> 
> if you’re interested in sneak peeks of my fics and deleted content, please check out my carrd in my ao3 profile for more info 😊

There isn’t anywhere to go. I’m trapped inside with Kylo, sitting on the couch with Oliver, glaring at him sitting in the recliner. He’s back to reading the self-help book Rose bought me two years ago, idly stroking his index finger along his upper lip. It’s quiet. Sunny. Oliver ran around for a bit.

Kylo turns the page and raises an eyebrow at what he sees. It’s a terrible book, honestly. Super cheesy. But I can’t feel him rifling through my mind anymore so that’s a welcome relief—now it’s just the vague chill of his presence, which is uncomfortable, but tolerable. I guess I don’t have a choice.

I put an arm around Oliver to pull him against my side. He leans on me, and I scroll through my phone to see if Rose has texted me at all.

“I’ve received some interesting news from Hux.”

My eyes flicker up. He’s still reading.

“What?” I ask.

“Your friend made a bit of a fuss.” Kylo puckers his lips, eyes narrowing. “I warned him to keep her hands away from his face. You never know when the bond will strike.” He glances up at me and smiles. “Isn’t that right, dove?”

 _What_? I just stare at him, dumbfounded, and he stares back at me. Does he mean…?!

I shake my head. “You’re lying.”

“I’m afraid not. Hux has the scar on his face to prove it, and he’s not happy about it.”

“Rose is with—with Finn!”

“The fiancé with a soulmate?” Kylo widens his eyes as he looks back down at his book, unimpressed. “Romantic.”

No way. No, no. She would’ve texted me by now. I get up quickly to pace, triple checking my texts before I try calling her. Kylo picks lint off his sweater.

_“Hey, it’s Rose! Leave a message and I’ll get back to you later.”_

“Rose?” I pad out to the kitchen, hunching my shoulders. “Please call me and let me know you’re okay. Please. Love you.”

“She’s perfectly fine,” Kylo calls from the living room with a bored sigh. “No need for the theatrics. Come sit. Read a book with me.”

I rub my forehead and try not to panic. If she is soulmates with Kylo’s goon, he can’t hurt or kill her. Unless he wants to die, too. Which I doubt. But why isn’t she texting me? How busy can she be?

He’s watching me when I look back, brows raised. As always, I don’t like his smile.

“He better not—”

“Don’t you think Rose deserves to be with her soulmate, too? Or should she be the third wheel in her fiancé’s relationship for the rest of her life?”

I cross my arms, huffing, because he has a point, but her soulmate shouldn’t be some hired _goon_. It’s horrible. Unromantic, and depressing, and not what the pamphlets and assemblies in high school promised. They said it would be special. That we were special. That it was a gift.

But I’m staring down my soulmate and he’s smiling and all I feel is fear and anxiety. No one said this could happen: the pain of unrequited love and complicated love triangles and being bonded to someone _evil_. I wanted stability and romance and destiny and I’ve been cursed with _him_.

It’s not fair. Hasn’t my life been shitty enough?

Kylo beckons me with his thick index finger. He’s circling like a vulture.

“Come, dear. Sit with me.”

“I don’t want to sit with you. I want nothing to do with you.”

He frowns. “But we’re already making such progress with your trauma. You looked very sweet hugging your teddy bear last night.”

“You just like dredging things up,” I retort. “You can’t kill me, so you’re doing the next best thing. Aren’t you? That’s what this is all about: you’re getting off on all my negative feelings!”

Kylo doesn’t react. He watches me, head tilted, and my lower lip quivers. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

I turn around to glare out my back door and cover my mouth before I break down into tears. I’m so fucking stressed out and _angry_ , and I hate thinking about Unkar, and weird memories so deeply repressed I’m not sure they’re real. I’m not sure of anything except the constant cold pressure of Kylo.

And that isn’t comforting. Not like it should be.

He’s quiet while I cry and wipe my face, and Oliver walks over to nuzzle my hand. I scratch behind his ears and try to get a hold of myself.

“I already told you, Rey: you’re not my type.”

I sniffle and keep wiping the tears away from my eyes. He’s so fucking creepy.

The chair creaks. I turn in a flash and see Kylo earmarking his book, standing up now, tall and imposing. He slips his hands in his pockets and ambles toward me, and I take a couple hasty steps back.

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” I spit.

“You’re not the type of woman I like to kill.” He raises his eyebrows, staring right into my eyes. “Too tall, uneducated, and emotional. Quite unlike my mother—who is the source of my impulses but I suppose that’s a little beyond your comprehension.”

Kylo ambles closer as I backpedal. Oliver seems to sense something is wrong and growls softly.

I bump into the glass door and quickly move around the island. He pauses where he is, watching me, ignoring the dog curling his lip in a snarl. He looks bored. His pale face is impassive.

“I don’t want to—I don’t—”

“I take no pleasure in an easy victim.” He lolls his head, gaze sweeping down my front, unimpressed. “And you’re a very _easy_ victim. I fact, I’m more inclined to take pity on you; sad, insecure little thing you are.”

I’m offended despite myself. Easy victim? I’m not an easy victim, and I’m not _stupid_ because I didn’t go to college. What a fucking jerk.

I clench my jaw, crossing my arms over my chest. “You’re trying to piss me off.”

“Only if hearing the truth makes you angry.”

“You just called me stupid and emotional.”

“I don’t think you’re stupid.” Kylo shrugs. “But you _are_ uneducated. Obtuse.”

Now I’m just mad. So I’m not smart enough for him to kill? That’s… that’s so fucking rude.

He reaches out to Oliver and lets him smell his hand before patting his head. I glare.

“It’s only to put your mind at ease,” Kylo says. “So you know I only have your best interest at heart, and derive no pleasure from your suffering.”

“Because I’m too stupid and emotional and beneath you.”

“Yes. Don’t you feel better now?”

I tap my foot. “So you think I’m, what, like a dog?”

He smiles, the creepy one that highlights his dimples, and Oliver nuzzles into his palm.

“I told you when we first met that you’re my pet, dove,” he murmurs. “Didn’t I?”

Yes—but I thought he was being condescending and rude; I didn’t know what he actually thought of me. It’s more offensive than it should be, since he’s a serial killer and I don’t care about his opinion of me. I’m not _beneath_ him. I don’t fucking kill people.

“My little pet.”

I glance up from the floor and see him starting toward me again, smile soft as he rounds the island. I glower at he comes closer but refuse to keep running, because this is _my_ house, and being emotional and not having a college diploma doesn’t make him any better than me.

Kylo stops not a foot in front of me. I don’t look away from his eyes, and his smile widens.

“I’m going to take good care of you,” he says. He curls my hair behind my ear, not blinking. “Though I’ve never been with a woman I haven’t strangled. It will be a challenge for both of us, I think.”

“Sorry about your mommy issues.”

There’s a violent snap somewhere in his mind but it’s like a bolt of lightning and gone before I can savor it. He keeps smiling, brushing his fingers under my jaw and cupping it lightly. I try to keep my poker face even if I’m terrified he’s going to snap my neck.

Kylo’s eyes wander down to my mouth, and I know what he’s going to do so I try to jerk back. He holds firm and his smile doesn’t falter for a second as he pulls me up an inch and kisses me on the lips.

It’s quick. I recoil, pushing against his broad chest, and he releases. His expression doesn’t change as I back up and rush around the other side of the island, scurrying to my bedroom. My face is hot and my mouth tingles and oh my god he just _kissed_ me, what the fuck?

I’m trembling when I get to my bedroom and close the door, running my hands through my hair. Holy shit. That’s gross. Gross. Gross, gross, _gross_.

Scratching and whining comes a couple seconds later and I open the door to let Oliver in. He trots past and I look up to see Kylo standing at the end of the hallway with his head cocked, hands in his pockets, smiling at me. My heart skips a beat. Jesus. Holy _shit_.

He doesn’t say anything. We stare at each other for a long minute before he idly wanders off, still smiling at me until he disappears around the corner.

I close my bedroom door and sit on the floor with Oliver. My lips tingle.


	10. If you call then I'm coming to get you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, sighing: this isn’t gonna be 16 chapters

_“All alone again, Benny?”_

Cold runs me through the throat like an icy spear. I jerk upright in bed, gasping and clutching my neck; I swear to god someone is choking me but my bedroom is empty. My heart races as I look around in the darkness, stunned by the terror I’m feeling—it’s not my memory; not my dream.

Oliver lifts his head and tilts it, whimpering. I’m sweating and trembling and startle when a violent stroke of cold stabs through my chest. It doubles me over and I have to bite back a scream.

_“Stop… please… stop…”_

Something impossibly frigid and black like tar is leaking into my head and I can’t stand it. I heave for air, pawing at my nightstand and knocking over my lamp in the process. I think I hear a scream but it’s so distant and strangled that I can’t be sure—

Then the gaping wound seals shut.

It’s so abrupt that I fall off the side of my bed, hand sliding off the nightstand. Oliver jumps down and whines and licks my face as I struggle to sit up, shaking so violently that I pull my comforter off the bed. What the hell was _that_? What was that? Did I accidentally brush Kylo’s mind?

I wrap the comforter around myself and lie on the floor, too terrified to get back in the bed. If I just stay here and don’t move—if I stay very still… nothing will happen.

—•—

I wake to the smell of breakfast coming through my open bedroom door.

I’m still wrapped up on the floor and Oliver is curled protectively around me. He sniffs my head when I stir, groaning and rubbing my eyes. Breakfast. Kylo is making _breakfast_. I don’t like how comfortable he is, making quiche and making breakfast.

It strikes me as I’m getting to my feet that he might be aware I got a sneak peek into his hellish wasteland of a mind last night. God I hope he doesn’t know.

I’ll pretend it didn’t happen. Even if my grills me or tries to trick me, I’ll pretend it didn’t happen. He thinks I’m some idiot and ‘easy victim’ so I won’t be. I’ll take a shower and be cool and calm—

“Good morning, dove.”

I jump at his voice, whirling around. Kylo has a hand in my door handle and my kitchen towel over his shoulder, and he’s just smiling, watching me. He’s dressed and showered and wearing shiny black dress shoes and a black belt. Ready for work.

Oliver licks my hand and I manage to get a grip. I’m a bit vulnerable in my mismatched pajamas with my bedroom a fucking mess. It’s obvious something happened. I’m sure he knows.

“Hey,” I rasp, running a hand through my hair. “Hello.”

“We’re going to have company in a few hours: Miss Hanes and Miss Williams. They’ve negotiated a contract for our cohabitation here.” Kylo’s dark eyes wander down my outfit. “Would you like to take a shower and put on something nice?”

I swipe my lamp off the floor. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

I’m not sure how to play this, so I figure indifference is best. He likes when I get upset and I’m not going to give him what he wants. Insulting my intelligence to manipulate me into behaving like his ‘type’ won’t work. I’m not _stupid_.

It’s hard not to let my mortal terror come through, though. My hands shake while I fix my nightstand and I can sense him staring at me. Waiting.

“Whatever you’d like to do, Rey. Breakfast is almost ready.”

He leaves. I don’t let my breath out until he’s around the corner.

Oliver comes in the bathroom with me while I shower and get ready. I’m not trying to impress anyone—I actually want them to feel shitty for leaving me alone with a fucking _serial killer_ —so I don’t blow dry my hair or put on any makeup. I’m not great at it anyway. Sweat runs and it gets in my eyes and mouth when I’m in crawl spaces that are more humid than hell.

I change into clean pajamas and put on a bra at least before shuffling out to the living room. Everything is neat and clean. It looks like Kylo dusted the coffee table and end table and some of my books are stacked on the couch. He’s cleaning my bookshelf.

“Omelet, dear?”

He’s out in the kitchen in front of the stove. The window over the sink is open to let the smoke out, and he’s already set the table with plates and cutlery.

“I’m not hungry,” I lie.

“No?” He tilts his head. “Did you have a bad dream?”

“…No. I’m just not hungry.”

Phew. Smooth save. I don’t get a rush of panic like I usually would lying straight to someone’s face.

Kylo studies me for another moment before raising his eyebrows and turning away, shrugging. I let out the breathe I’m holding and sit on the couch. Hopefully I can go back to work and go outside. I know I can’t be too far from him but _some_ space would be nice.

He finishes cooking a couple minutes later and I hear a chair scrape across the kitchen floor. He whistles—Oliver perks up and comes running for his breakfast.

All is quiet for some time. Kylo eats (I’m assuming, but I’m not going to turn and look) and my stomach growls loudly. I’m never eating anything he cooks. I’d rather subsist off cereal for the rest of my life.

I might have to. Who knows what he does to the food while I’m asleep?

Kylo ambles around the kitchen cleaning and I check my phone for messages from Rose. I’m sure she’s okay. Hux can’t hurt her or anything and Rose isn’t the type to take things lying down. She’ll be fine.

As I scroll through Facebook, I feel something brush against the edge of my thoughts. My thumb pauses but I don’t look up from my phone, cold crawling down my spine. It’s him. He’s checking up on me.

Before my mind can wander to the horrible nightmare I try to blank all my thoughts out by just thinking about what Oliver’s fur feels like. He’s sitting next to my legs with his tongue lolling out of his mouth and I bury my fingers in his thick fur. Soft. Warm. Thick. Soft. Warm. Thick. Merle. Blue merle.

The floor creaks behind me.

“So… no bad dreams, dear?”

His voice is so soft and vaguely threatening that it immediately drags me back to the nightmare—but I manage to reroute to the dog before Kylo can see anything. My heart hammers as he quietly wanders along the fringes of my mind, sharp talons grazing my brain, ready to rip into me whenever he wants.

I swallow. “No. Fine.”

I’m doing it—keeping him out. Kind of. He could still dig in but I think he will only enjoy it if I give him an inkling first; a thread to unravel the whole thing. It’s exciting and absolutely terrifying.

Kylo smooths his enormous hands over my shoulders, squeezing. I stare straight ahead out the living room window and rub Oliver’s fur between my fingers. His palms are hot.

“Good, good. Your bedroom was a bit of a mess so I was very concerned.”

“I’m great. Can’t wait to see my lawyer.” I laugh uncomfortably.

“She should be here soon.” His hands drift toward my neck. “Are you sure you don’t want to change?”

I nod sharply, and even though I’m dizzy with fear I don’t resist him gently wrapping a hand around my throat. Do it. You won’t. You’ll suffer, too.

Kylo tightens his grip for a second before his hands slide away. I try to keep calm and collected as he meanders around the couch to sit in the recliner, but sweat is beading on my forehead and palms. I did it. Finally, after days of suffering, I held it together.

My soulmate sits in the chair and smiles pleasantly. He folds his hands in his lap.

“Did Unkar ever bring you to orgasm, Rey?”

All the excitement is sucked straight out of me. I blanch.

Kylo keeps staring at me and I scramble internally to keep from storming off. My lower eyelid twitches, nausea twisting my guts. Don’t get upset. Don’t get upset. That’s what he wants.

“No,” I croak. 

“No?” His dark eyes pin me to the couch. “Any penetration, or did he prefer outercourse?”

I shake my head and shrug. I don’t remember. Those things were buried so deep and so far back that sometimes I think it’s all in my head.

I’m shaking and cold now, fighting to hold back tears and the overwhelming urge to run and hide. Kylo searches my face and carries on circling the periphery of my chaotic thoughts. It won’t be long. I can’t do this forever and I can’t get away from him.

“I’ll have to pick his brain before he’s disposed of.” His sharp talons soften to gentle, warm tendrils, and I bite hard on my inner cheek. “So I know exactly what you like.”

Someone knocks on the door.

Kylo eyes me for another beat, smiling at my blank, terrified face, then gets up to answer it. I’m so sick from thinking about Unkar and resisting my fucking _soulmate_ trying to hurt me that I race to the bathroom and throw up.

Voices float down the hall but I don’t care to hear them. I flush the toilet and wash my mouth out. It doesn’t help much.

When I open the door I hear laughter. Oliver doesn’t come to greet me like he usually does so I stand there for a long minute, hoping he will.

But he doesn’t.


	11. If you call then I'm coming, now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmmmmmmmmmm

The contract I’m given to sign has a lot of legalese I don’t understand.

Kylo sits beside me and chats up the agent and lawyer, ensuring they’re too distracted to help me understand what I’m getting myself into. I flip through the complicated thing a couple times but it’s a hundred-something pages of jargon.

I ask if I’m allowed to see friends and go out: I am, but only for four hours a day. My windows and doors have to remain locked and at least one surveillance vehicle will be outside at all times. No visitors in my home. I’ll receive a stipend of $4000 a month, which is actually more than double what I make.

“You can’t return to work full time,” my lawyer says. “The distance will put too much strain on Mister Ren.”

He raises his eyebrows and she quickly corrects herself: _Doctor_ Ren. They laugh.

Oliver on the other side of me. I pet him absentmindedly, Googling words or phrases and flipping back and forth through the pages. I haven’t changed out of my pajamas. I’m determined to win wherever I can, and Kylo has already made three comments about it. For a serial killer, he’s pretty passive aggressive.

I flip to the section about children—god fucking _forbid_ —and reading it makes me sweaty and nauseous. I’ve been avoiding it, picking through the parts telling me I’m imprisoned with Kylo. No one but a licensed interventionist is allowed to step foot in my home. He can’t use my phone or the internet and if he does, I’m the one who gets punished.

If he escapes I’ll be punished, too. I’m as responsible for him as the guards parked across the street, but I never asked for this job; never wanted it.

I rub my temple, poring over _visitation_ and _custody_. Soulmates are supposed to have kids. It’s expected. Most people can’t unless they meet their soulmate and wasting the ‘gift’ of fertility is taboo. I’m hoping I get a pass, because 50/50 custody with a serial killer is less than ideal.

While I’m reading, long fingers curl around my upper thigh. I shoot Kylo a glare but he’s watching Miss Hanes talk and doesn’t pay me any attention. Prick.

“I’m supposed to let a _murderer_ raise kids?” I ask, interrupting a lull. I shove his hand off my thigh. “What’s the logic there?”

No one answers for a second. Maybe they were hoping I’d skip over that part.

“That’s an error,” the agent says. “Let me cross it out.”

I give her a sarcastic smile and push the document across the table. I’ve got a running list of issues, like only being allowed out for four hours a day. They want me to work Monday and Thursday for six hours a day, which is also fucking ridiculous. I’m not the inmate. I didn’t commit any crimes.

“I’m going to work Monday, Wednesday, and Friday,” I add. “Eight hours each day.”

“That will put considerable strain on your soulmate,” ‘my’ lawyer pipes up. Miss Williams. Bitch.

“Fine. Six hours a day.”

Kylo shrugs. He’s too smug and satisfied—I must be missing something else in the contract.

“I don’t mind Rey working more frequently,” he says. His hand wraps around my thigh again and I meet his dark eyes, irritated. “I would hate for her to wither away with me.”

Miss Hanes adds it to the addendums. I snatch the thing back when she’s done.

“I’m going to make more revisions.” I slide it in its envelope. “You can get it at the end of the week.”

“We need this document signed as soon as possible, Miss Niima,” Miss Hanes insists.

I shrug. “Sorry. Guess you’ll have to wait.”

No one is happy with me but I don’t care—I’m proud of myself when they get up and leave, even though it means I’m alone with Kylo again. I’ve never liked being a stick in the mud but I’ll be a tree trunk if it gives me more time to ferret out all the bullshit in this stupid contract.

I plop on the couch, determined to show this is _my_ shitty trailer and I’m not going to hide in a corner while he cooks and cleans and plays with my dog. I’m unfolding the contract to read when Kylo takes a seat in the armchair, settling back, smiling. Oliver jumps up on the couch with me. Good boy.

I’ll take as long as I need. I settle back, too, ignoring Kylo’s gaze. Got all the time in the world.

But the ensuing silence makes me nervous. I’m waiting for him to say something creepy and gross or jam his fingers in my brain, but he’s quiet. The pages crinkle as I flip through them and make my notes in the margins. Been a while since I had homework.

“Can I get you something to eat, Rey?”

I don’t look up. “No.”

“Surely you must be hungry.”

“I’m fine. I’ll probably have cereal later.”

Kylo sighs like a disappointed mother. He drums his fingers together.

“Why don’t I make…”

He’s ripping into me in the next second, so violent that my pen goes flying out of my hand. Cold talons claw through my thoughts like a dog tearing apart a stuffed animal to get a treat hidden inside, and it hurts so much that I let out a pained gasp. I’m too stunned to do much as Kylo finds what he wants and leaves a raw, aching wound when he drags it out.

I’m trembling, staring at the floor. Oliver whimpers and nudges my elbow.

Kylo claps his palms on his knees. “Well I can certainly make Italian wedding soup.” He stands in one fluid motion and pauses at the side of the couch. I slowly look up at him, twitching from the assault. He’s smiling. “Are you trying to drop hints, dear?”

Again, I don’t respond. I stare until he ambles off to the kitchen to find my Crock Pot.

I haven’t had that soup in years—but now the taste and memories come flooding back: Rose and I up all night trying to make it, drinking box wine and chatting endlessly about what our soulmates are like. Cramped apartment, tight on money. Good memories all the same, but now it’s been dragged through the ice and mud and it feels tainted.

My throat constricts but I manage to keep the tears at bay. I pick up my pen and get back to work, more determined than ever to keep my dignity.

I spend a long time working through the pages while Kylo cooks. Thankfully he doesn’t talk to me and I don’t bother talking to him, even though the soup starts smelling _really_ good after a bit. I’m on the section outlining how my testimony can’t be used against him in any court of law when he speaks.

“How many children would you like to have?”

I snort and shake my head. _That_ won’t be getting a reply.

Kylo finishes up whatever he’s doing and returns to my armchair. Oliver wanders away to smell the food.

“I know you like them,” Kylo says, folding his hands in his lap.

“And?”

“Well, short of adoption, we’ll be having them together.”

He’s not wrong—pre-bonding it’s possible to have kids with someone else, but after the bond it becomes impossible. Sex is also _possible_ but not pleasant. Most people only respond to their soulmate, which is romantic and special if your soulmate isn’t a piece of shit.

I write _no_ next to ‘offspring.’ “I’m fine. I’ll just raise my dog.”

“I’m not fond of children but I do very much like the thought of impregnating you.”

“Charming.”

He makes a soft derisive sound. I keep writing, pretending I’m not bothered.

“Rey,” Kylo murmurs. “We have to live together for the rest of our lives. Wouldn’t you like it to be a pleasant life?”

“I’m not going to fawn all over you. You’ve killed people.”

“I’m not going to kill you.”

“Only because you can’t,” I retort. I’m distracted now and the letters swim. “I can’t just roll over and pretend you’re not a murderer and play house with you— _and_ , you’ve been tormenting me since the day we met. Sorry you don’t know what having a conscience is like.”

“I’m your other half, Rey. If you can’t love me, how can you love yourself?”

I pause, gaze flickering up to his, teeth gritted.

“Because you’re a _serial killer_ ,” I hiss, “and a sadist, and—”

“Hating me for the rest of your life is going to take so much energy.” Kylo raises his eyebrows, smiling. “Wouldn’t you rather embrace the inevitable rather than having it thrust upon you?”

“I’m not embracing anything. You’re a murderer.”

He taps his fingertips together and his eyes narrow slightly for a second. He’s studying me, calculating his next move. I glare.

“I don’t need your permission, Rey.”

The blood drains from my face even though I knew this was coming. There’s no one to stop him after all, and we both know _I_ can’t stop him.

I stare. His foot bobs casually on my periphery and he tilts his head.

“Typically I don’t give a second thought to taking the things I want—money, valuables. Women.” Kylo presses his lips into a line. “Simple enough for a sexual sadist lacking a conscience. I’m surprised I’ve waited this long.”

“I’m not your type,” I remind him. Please.

“I’ve raped many women who weren’t strictly my type. I just don’t kill them afterwards. Usually.”

Usually.

Scared shitless, I decide to resume pretending he doesn’t exist instead of running away. I lower my gaze to the contract but it’s all fuzzy and confusing now, tangled up in my now very real fear that Kylo is about to attack me.

He makes a vague gesture I catch on my periphery again. I suppress a flinch.

“I prefer killing women who present a challenge,” he continues. “I have my room of trophies like any other self-respecting hunter who pursues the _challenging_ quarry rather than the doe with a limp. I’m less selective when it comes to rape.”

Jesus fuck. Jesus. _Jesus_. Don’t look. Don’t look. He’s trying to get a rise out of you.

“The true litmus test for a psychopath is not in the sheer body count he amasses or gruesome way in which he dispatches his victims.” There’s scratching, like he’s rubbing his jaw. “But in the degree of self-mutilation he can endure. Self-sabotage. Is there anything more psychopathic than deliberately dismantling what it is to be human?”

“Killing people seems worse.”

“Killing people is easy. Living with yourself afterwards is not—and the ability to emotionally castrate oneself to be capable of shouldering the burden of taking another person’s life— _that_ is the true indicator of a psychopath. Lack of remorse is the end result of severe psychological self-mutilation.”

A soft ripple echoes through Kylo. I pause, surprised and maybe a little intrigued. Something stirs beneath the surface but the ripple vanishes and I can’t peer into the depths of him anymore.

I rub my thumb on my pen. “Cool. Thanks for sharing.”

“I can’t think of more profound self-mutilation than raping my soulmate.”

Another reverberation stirs him but this time I don’t care. I avoid his stare and pretend I’m reading. He can’t. I think the emotional pain will even stop _him_.

He can’t. Really. He really can’t.

His pause lasts for a terrifying minute. Kylo hums, cupping his temple in his index finger and thumb.

“But I would prefer to subsist off those little morsels I find scattered around your mind than gorge myself on the chaos sexual assault will bring,” he says. “Perhaps once I’ve picked up all the crumbs I can find I’ll reconsider.”

I’m not pretending to write. I’m trying not to cry and having a miserable time of it. I can’t believe he’s saying these things to me.

Oliver pads out from the kitchen to nuzzle my knee. I pet him and wipe my eyes hurriedly, then I’m getting up, only half aware of it. I really need to get away from Kylo. I really do.

He doesn’t say anything as I gather my things, but he calls to me when I’m in the hallway.

“Your soup will be done in a few hours, dear. I expect you to eat a bowl.” Pause. “If you refuse, I’m afraid I’ll have to take more drastic measures.”

I close my bedroom door without answering.


	12. If you call then I’m coming to get you

The scent of the soup wafts through my house to the bedroom, where I’m lying on my back staring at the ceiling. I don’t want to eat any food Kylo makes for me but I’m slightly terrified of what ‘drastic measures’ he might take if I don’t. And I’m hungry.

Oliver is out there with him. I hear the sliding door open and shut and assume he’s going out to the bathroom or to burn off some energy. That’s good. At least Kylo isn’t mistreating my dog. He’s young and he really needs the exercise.

I hear a knock on my door. I close my eyes for a second, swallowing hard. This isn’t going anywhere. I don’t have to feel guilty for trying to make this situation tolerable, and I didn’t ask for this. All I have to do is survive. I don’t owe anyone anything, especially when they’ve abandoned me.

I sit up as Kylo opens the door, my dog at his side. Oliver’s tongue lolls from his mouth and he trots over to put his paws up on the edge of the bed, seeking a scratch. I avoid Kylo’s eyes while I pet the dog.

“Dinner is ready,” he says softly. “May I bring you a tray, or would you prefer to eat at the table?”

Oliver pants. I scratch behind his ears with both hands and guilt comes back stronger than ever. Kylo has _killed_ people. Raped women. I can’t just eat the food he makes. What does that make me?

“What will you do…” I pause, clearing my throat to keep my voice from cracking. “What will you do if I don’t?”

“Whatever is necessary to make you eat.”

“You can’t make me eat.”

“Of course I can,” he corrects mildly.

The vague threat hangs there for a minute. I really don’t want to find out what he plans to do.

I get up. Oliver wags his tail and Kylo steps aside to let me out of the bedroom. He follows me to the kitchen. He has the table set up already with two bowls full of soup, glasses of water, napkins, and spoons. It’s dark now. I’ve been in my bedroom all day.

Kylo pulls out my chair and I hesitate before I sit. The soup looks normal enough: it’s Italian wedding soup, the same thing Rose and I learned to make together. Color is fine. It’s hot, steam curling into the air. It smells good, but I’m still on edge. I’m sure he’s planning something—he’s always three steps ahead.

I glance up as Kylo takes his seat. “Did you put anything in this?”

He places his napkin in his lap and takes a sip of water. Snow falls past the kitchen window.

“I hope you like it,” he says, casually ignoring my question. “I used the same recipe you and Miss Tico did.”

“Did you _put_ anything in this?” I repeat.

“Interesting the way some of these memories stick to our brains no matter how many years have passed. They may fade, but they come back to the surface so vividly with the right prompting.”

I’m not sure what to do. I stare at the soup, hands in my lap, sick with fear. What if it’s poisoned? Drugged? Those things will flow across our bond, right? So he wouldn’t drug me or poison me because he’d be doing the same thing to himself.

Kylo eats. My stomach twists in knots—I’m so hungry but I don’t want to be _drugged_ —and I continue just staring at my soup. Where would he get drugs? Did Hux bring them? Wouldn’t the guards search Hux before letting him in my house?

“Rey, dear.”

My eyes flicker up. He’s watching me, and he raises his eyebrows, motioning to my bowl.

My hand shakes, but I pick up my spoon and dip it into the soup. I feel Kylo’s eyes on me. He must have drugged it. He’s waiting for my reaction.

“Napkin, dove. In your lap.”

I almost roll my eyes. I spread the napkin in my lap and offer him a glare, which is returned with a smile. He watches me eat a spoonful of soup and I’m instantly annoyed that it tastes as good as it looks. It’s warm and it’s nice to have warm food again.

We eat in silence, spoons occasionally scraping our bowls. Oliver watches me, head cocked, and I give him a piece of sausage when I get to the bottom of my bowl. As soon as I’m done Kylo gets up to get me another. Doesn’t ask. I _am_ still hungry, though.

“How is it?” Kylo asks, setting a filled bowl in front of me.

“Fine. Mine was better.”

He’s standing at my side and kisses the top of my head before he goes back to his seat. I busy myself with eating, trying to ignore the excited flutter in my chest. Wrong reaction, body.

“You’ll have to make it for us some time,” he says. “Though I think next I’d like to make us another favorite meal of yours. What do you think?”

Cold creeps along my mind and I stiffen. I nod quickly, swallowing my mouthful of soup as fast as I can.

“Minestrone?” I croak.

“Why don’t we try something with a little more substance?”

Oh Jesus. I’m so nervous I can’t think of anything, and his tendrils prickle lightly, threateningly, waiting to tear into me and drag out what he wants. It’s hard to remain calm when I know how much pain is in store for me if I don’t give him a good answer.

I can’t think of anything. He gently sinks the tips of his icy fingers into my mind.

“I’ll let you sleep on it,” he says.

Kylo withdraws from my consciousness and slithers back to the barren wasteland of his own mind. I manage to suppress my anxious, quivering breath in my next spoonful of soup.

When we’re done eating he fills the dishwasher and puts the extra soup away in the fridge. Finally, this fucking day is over. I can go to sleep. Forget this. Hopefully not have another awful nightmare.

Oliver goes out for his last potty break before bed and I get his dinner ready. I wait near the glass door, just watching him running through the snow, tumbling and rolling and wagging his tail. Kylo hovers somewhere near the kitchen doorway. I can feel him watching me.

But that’s nothing new. I guess I should get used to it.

The dog comes back inside and eats his food. His crunching echoes in the quiet, dark kitchen.

“Hux and Rose are doing well.”

I look up from my hands. I’m sitting on a chair trying to occupy myself while I wait for Oliver and Kylo is gazing out the window, arms folded over his chest.

I nod, eyes dropping to the floor before returning to my hands. “That’s good.”

“Busy filling out paperwork and organizing things. That’s why she hasn’t responded to you lately—but I’m trying to organize a get-together. The lawyers may allow it. May not.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

Kylo nods. I’m surprised he’s vouching for me seeing my friends. Seems like he would want me to be isolated.

But it would be nice to see Rose again. I miss her. I hope she’s doing okay.

Oliver follows me to the bedroom like he does every night—and tonight, Kylo follows me, too. I pause at the door and look over my shoulder at him. He’s a couple feet back, hands in his pockets.

I don’t know what to say. He’s looming there like a monster from my nightmares, and he tilts his head and smiles. My heart picks up a nervous tattoo.

“Going to bed?” he asks.

I nod. He pauses, blinking innocently then motioning for me to continue.

“I prefer to sleep alone,” I say.

“Do you?”

“Yes. Just with Oliver.”

Kylo shrugs and nods. I nod again and shuffle into my bedroom, blood pounding in my ears. Now or never. I can slam the door in his face before he can catch up to me.

I spin around and throw the door, spooking Oliver and drawing a surprised yelp from him. Kylo is only two feet behind me and catches the door on his palm. It vibrates from the force of the collision and I panic, shoving my whole body into it to push him out, but it doesn’t affect him.

He braces a hand on the doorframe, peering around the edge of the door to smile at me. His jaw is tight.

“What’s wrong, dear?” he coos. “Don’t you want to cuddle?”

Kylo shoves the door and I fall to the floor. I’m scrambling to sit up as he shuts and locks it and Oliver barks and scratches desperately to get in.

I twist onto all fours and he scoops me off the floor around my middle. I take a couple sharp, terrified breaths before I summon up a scream but he dumps me on the bed in the next second. I’m hyperventilating as I turn on my back and come face-to-face with my soulmate.

Another scream gets lodged in my throat. I stare up into his dark eyes, lower lip quivering—then I slap him across the face.

Pain lances up my jaw and crackles under my skin. I flinch, clutching my face in shock and twisting underneath him. Mother—

“Good girl... that’s my good girl.” Kylo keeps his hands planted on either side of my head, whispering while I break down into sobs. “Oh, dear. Oh dear. Such a weepy little girl I have.”

I’m burning with rage: it’s amplified, building, feeding off the dry brambles in his soul; all that dead, empty cold fueling my spark of fury. I seize him by the throat, first just one hand but adding my other a second later, and I squeeze blindly through my tears. Pressure closes in on my own throat but I just keep _squeezing_ and hoping I’ll crush his windpipe.

Oliver barks outside the bedroom door. Black spots dance on my periphery after a handful of seconds and my ears ring, fingers shaking. I gulp for air until I can’t bear it, and my hands slip away from his throat.

Kylo immediately—violently—rips into my brain. I’m sore from the echo of his pain and I scream, arching and pawing at his shirt. He digs and burrows and gently lowers his weight on top of me until I can’t struggle anymore. I lie there, staring at the ceiling over his shoulder, twitching and hiccuping.

His lips brush my cheek. I’m not sure where he is but I’m so mortally terrified that I can’t speak. It’s not a memory he’s tearing into, it’s just _fear_ , that fear when you miss a stair, when a bee buzzes past your head. Gripping and icy and usually brief.

“Shh…” Kylo kisses my upper eyelid. His voice is soft. “Shh… Just let it happen.”

My heart races so fast it’s making my chest hurt. I squirm every handful of minutes, or choke on a sob, but he doesn’t let me up and doesn’t slip his hooks free of my mind. They sit there, cold and raw and hard as steel, and I can’t do anything about it.

But I feel a sliver of hope: another tremble in Kylo, and his uneven breaths while he kisses down to my neck. I close my eyes and try to pull the thread but I’m drowsy and it _hurts_ and he’s going to punish me if he catches me snooping.

And he does—he gently bats me aside but not before I glimpse the fringe of the chaos he’s hiding; the scant flicker of light and boiling heat. There’s something else in there. I don’t know what, but there’s something else in there.

I’m not sure how much time passes before Kylo withdraws. The relief is immediate and I moan and it’s sore and raw but it’s _over_ and I’m so exhausted.

“Good girl,” he praises in a murmur. He leans to his side and gathers me to his chest. “Go to sleep. This will be much easier if you’re asleep.”

What will be much easier? My eyes roll back and I whimper, slipping into unconsciousness as Kylo gently slips into my memories.


	13. You want to sink, so I’m gonna let you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk if Rey successfully fucks him up then Kylo loses his scary edge so I’m doing this s l o w l y

My sleep feels deep and endless for a while. It’s nice, like when I had Vicodin after my wisdom teeth were pulled. Boundless and black and peaceful.

But my periphery trembles, and I frown as I’m pried awake.

There’s nothing for a minute: my bedroom is dark and the door is closed but my nightlight is on. I swallow, squeezing my eyes shut and rolling them open to get a better look around the room. My arms are pinned and I’m presently aware of Kylo’s presence as it bubbles into my mind like an icy spring—he’s embracing me tightly, breathing on my neck.

He shudders, and the cold violently boils.

I squirm and wince but I think he’s asleep because he doesn’t react to my struggling. Heat pours over, then freezes once more, and I sense a thread dangling within the chaos: a passing thought; a lifeline. My only chance of peering inside Kylo.

I close my eyes and amble along it for a few seconds to test his reaction. He’s quiet, only showing any weakness through the thin crack in his façade that’s currently bubbling over. Moving around in our bond is a weird process, but I can _feel_ these things like they’re in my hands, and I can feel the thread, and I tug it.

It doesn’t give; doesn’t lead me anywhere. Maybe if I pull as hard as I can it will do something—

It gives, just a little, and burning hot agony oozes out in a overwhelming cacophony of voices and sensations.

_“—Something wrong with him—”_

_“Too much—grandfather—”_

_Cold hands cold hands cold hands—touching—have to be quiet—feels good but feels bad going to throw up_

_“Monstrous_ beast _!”_

I can’t fucking bear it. I let go with a gasp, quickly sucking in air to hold my breath. Don’t want to wake him. What if he figures out I went poking around again? Oh god. If I don’t move—maybe he won’t realize.

My eyes widen and search the dark room as Kylo shifts behind me. He freezes over and I squeeze my eyes shut at the sharp prickle of his fingers along my consciousness. He’s checking to see if I’m awake. I wish I knew how to stop him. I wish I knew anything about any of this.

Kylo sighs. I keep holding my breath.

“Such a fitful sleeper,” he murmurs, voice rough and drowsy. His hand idly slides up my shirt to stroke my bare stomach. “So tense.”

I’m hyper aware of his presence in my mind; everything is still raw from his attack and I don’t think I can handle another one. I swallow and let my thoughts wander to the texture of Oliver’s fur, since it worked last time, and Kylo carries on his inspection.

“What’s wrong?” he whispers in my ear. His talons prick me but I manage to stay still. “Bad dream?”

“No. No.” I shake my head. He’s idly grazing my stomach with his fingertips. “Just miss the dog.”

Kylo hums. His lips brush my jaw and he places a kiss there, lingering, mouth hot and wet. Now I feel _creepy_ thinking about Oliver so I switch gears to soup: the taste, the smell, the texture in my mouth. I don’t know. I can’t think of anything else.

Fingers glide up my ribs. I’m distracted, just for a second, twitching as Kylo’s warm hand creeps upward. I scramble to throw up the wall again before he can slip into the forefront of my mind and the second I do, his thumb grazes the underside of my breast.

“I know.” He kisses my shoulder next, mumbling, and I lie there frozen in fear. “But I want you to myself sometimes, too.”

I’m not sure how to react as he cups my breast in his huge hand—I’m having a hard time blocking him out as it is and I’m sure he _wants_ me to struggle.

Kylo exhales a satisfied breath in my hair, squeezing lightly, then drawing his thumb across my nipple. I clench my jaw as warmth radiates along my scalp and down my spine. Can’t stop physical reactions. But they’re just—physical. Hormones and nerves.

He circles my nipple, tracing it in a loose, light line, and the heat curls in my lower belly. All physical. Can’t help it. Hormones.

“Lovely,” Kylo breathes. He cups my breast again, whispering in my ear. “I’ve been known to remove large breasts—I dislike them. Yours are a lovely little palmful, Rey.” He nuzzles me and I stiffen, heart pounding. “My sweet, soft little Rey. I don’t think I’ll change anything about you.”

The fondling resumes, slow and torturous and terrifying. I’m struggling to think about soup but it’s all I have and the longer Kylo stimulates my nipples, the wavier the image becomes. I can’t help it—it’s just one of those things, like blinking and breathing. My thighs rub together and I squeeze my eyes shut for a minute but it doesn’t help.

His lips graze my jaw and he presses a kiss to my cheek. Soon his mouth wanders down along my neck, hot and wet and gentle, thumb teasing my nipple. He’s warm. He smells like mint.

I swallow. “I… I have to… I have to…”

“I had a very nice dream about you,” Kylo murmurs, interrupting my train of thought. Teeth roll the thin skin on my throat. “That pulse of shock when you slapped me—in all my years killing women, I’ve never felt anything so exquisite.”

Soup is suddenly the last thing on my mind. My lower lip quivers and I’m reduced to holding back tears like I _always_ am, then they’re spilling down my cheeks, sob lodged in my chest. I don’t want to see inside his head—I can’t risk being exposed to any of that. I don’t think I’ll survive it.

Kylo sighs, hand sliding down to my stomach. I twitch and sniffle and grit my teeth to keep from crying.

He tugs on my ribs, pulling me onto my back. I resist but he’s strong and firm and in another smooth motion he’s on top of me, between my thighs. I don’t even move. I can barely see—there’s just an eerie blue glow cast across the wall.

“You really do have lovely breasts,” Kylo whispers. His long fingers work through the buttons on my shirt, unhurried. “Disfiguring them would be a waste.”

I’m not at all comforted by his reassurance. I swallow, throat dry as he kisses down my neck and across my collarbone, meandering along the middle of my chest. The skin there is sensitive and I squirm uncomfortably at the hot pressure of his mouth. I can’t see; can’t attack him or I’ll suffer even more for it. I think me slapping him just turned him on.

I can feel _that_ , steadily growing like a pulse under my skin in my lower belly. That’s something he can’t hide very well either, and the foreign pressure of feeling his arousal that dwarfs mine makes me uneasy. I’m too anxious to be aroused—it’s just my body responding to stimuli and nothing more. I guess someone with no feelings doesn’t have that problem.

Kylo turns again. My bed is small but somehow he manages it, and I blink in surprise as he adjusts me in his lap. He pushes up and the bed creaks: he’s sitting upright now and my legs are wrapped around his waist, one thick arm curled around my back. He moves quick for being so fucking big.

“Much better.” He leans against the headboard, hands wrapping around my waist. I catch myself with one palm on his chest before I fall forward. “Come here, little one.”

I’m not sure what he means, since I’m already sitting in his fucking _lap_ —then his lips brush my nipple, tongue teasing it in a circle, and he gently draws it into his warm mouth.

It’s startling and weird and I jerk back. Kylo hums and follows, hands sliding up my back to push me forward. Part of me is afraid he’s going to be horrible and bite my nipple off but he just sucks rhythmically, and the same heat I felt before swirls at the base of my skull. Ugh—no—

He sighs, lilting into another hum like he’s satisfied. Pleasant heat spreads throughout my body, winding between my legs, and I squirm uncomfortably in his lap hoping it will go away. This is weird.

But my moving around doesn’t help in the least: as always, I manage to make things worse.

Kylo presses his fingers into my back when I accidentally nudge his cock. He exhales, breath shaky, and I wince, expecting him to make a gross comment or take it out or something. He’s not going to just ignore it; that’s for sure. But he shivers, enough for me to feel it in his chest under my palms, and icy wetness oozes from the chink in his armor.

Seems strange to me. He doesn’t react, instead kissing across my chest to my other nipple, and I move again, just to see—

Kylo takes a sharp breath. I freeze, surprised by a ripple through his depths; one of the few reactions he’s ever given me. Echoes of his old memories whisper in my ears but I can’t make them out, and as I reach forward, dipping my fingers inside them, I’m met by ice and stone and a hiss of boiling heat.

I think I can melt through it. It’s flimsy, and I’m drawn in even though I shouldn’t be, so I push.

_Pressure—heat—a flush of pain and pleasure and nausea and excitement—_

Goosebumps prickle along my arms as the strange, terrifying mix of emotions washes over me in a torrent. I’m swept up in it, breathless; exhilarated even though it’s bizarre and alien. What the _fuck_? What _is_ this? What are these memories? Why are they so disparate and wispy?

Distant screaming and sobbing steadily grows to a dull roar, and I think it’s a little boy begging for help, but I’m violently cut off.

Kylo’s hand is wrapped around my throat. I didn’t notice him grab me but I can feel him squeeze; hear him try to swallow as he chokes himself, too. Not angry; not aggressive. Knee-jerk, like a reflex.

My ears ring. I barely breathe and I don’t move. I caught him off-guard.

He’s quiet for a minute, then his grip loosens enough that both of us can speak again. I still don’t say anything, just swallow, and his hand drifts up to grasp my jaw instead. He turns it, leaning in, voice low and soft and dangerous in my ear.

“…Rey. My dove.” His fingers dig in and I wince. “My lovely little girl.”

Kylo trails off for a minute—I hear him swallow hard and I can feel vicious hot spikes of anger that he quickly subdues. My fingers tighten on his shirt.

He exhales, shifting to his patronizing soft voice. “Where did you learn that, my sweet little dove? Hm?” His grip turns harder and I squirm, whimpering as his voice drops to an angry edge again. “Didn’t I expressly tell you not to do that?”

“—Can’t help it,” I manage. Hard to talk. “Ac-Accident—”

“Oh, I don’t believe that. I don’t believe that.” Kylo releases my jaw, sweeping his hand in my hair instead, pulling roughly. “Be a good girl and tell me, or I’m afraid I’ll have to cut off one of Oliver’s ears.”

I can’t see him with him nuzzling the side of my head but I think I feel him smile when I start struggling. No, no—no, no, no. He said he wouldn’t hurt Oliver.

“I did it—I did it by accident!” I insist, throat tight. “I didn’t even want to!”

“Don’t give me your crocodile tears, Rey. I’m bored of them.”

“I swear to god—you can look! I haven’t been researching it!”

Talons tear right into me like he _ever_ needed my permission.

He isn’t gentle, but the longer he rakes through my memories, the more delicate he becomes. Eventually I’m slumped against his chest and he’s combing his long fingers through my hair, idly picking through even the slightest thoughts I had today, like when I need to go grocery shopping.

I think this is where Kylo is most at home: lodged into my brain like a parasite, amusing himself with all my frantic fearful thoughts. He enjoys swatting me down whenever I start to get back to my feet.

“Good girl,” he murmurs. He kisses my head. “Just stay right where I want you.”

I shudder miserably, eyes fluttering shut. Tears don’t come this time.


	14. All I want's some earth and seed

I’m alone in bed the following morning, cold and trembly like I’m coming down with the flu.

I manage to sit up. Oliver comes through the open doorway, tail wagging, and puts his paws up on the bed to lick my hand—but the touch makes my flesh burn and I pull away from him. Nausea burns up my throat. I need a shower.

The dog follows me to the bathroom and whimpers when I shut him out. Tears well up because I feel guilty making him wait outside but I need space right now; I need to not to be touched. Kylo’s violent intrusion in my head is still raw. Hurts. Has me on edge, worried I’m going to see something else I shouldn’t when his memories leak again.

I step into the warm shower once it’s ready. It’s hard to keep my mind empty, whether that’s by thinking about the texture of Oliver’s fur or the taste of the soup, but any emotion or real thought is easy for Kylo to pick up on. I can’t do this for the rest of my life.

I tilt my head back and close my eyes as the water runs down my scalp. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I don’t think this a life worth living.

The front door opens while I’m still showering. I quickly finish up and get dressed in my pajamas again, brush my teeth, and wash my face. I’m okay. I’m not going to… _do_ anything. Or hurt myself. I’ll be okay.

Voices carry down the hallway. Oliver meets me near the end, panting and wagging his tail, and he leads me around the corner to a welcome surprise.

Rose is sitting on my couch beside Kylo’s goon, Hux, the red-haired guy who kept bringing me the nightlight. Kylo is sitting in my recliner and they all look up as I shuffle into the living room—then promptly burst into tears.

She looks good— _great._ She’s okay and she’s here and it’s such a relief that I can’t help but cry.

Kylo cocks his head and pouts his lower lip. He gets up to comfort me, even though Rose starts to stand up. Hux tugs her back to the couch and shakes his head.

“So many tears from my little Rey,” Kylo coos. He wraps his arms around me and squeezes tight. “My weepy little girl.”

I endure his embrace for as long as he imposes it on me, which is thankfully only a minute. He releases me and I sit next to Rose and hug her and we both cry. I hope she’s okay. She’s wearing nice new clothes: a green sweater and new jeans and gold jewelry. I hope Hux isn’t hurting her.

I hold her at arm’s length, wiping my eyes. “You look so good—how have things been?”

“Oh… they’ve been interesting.” She glances over her shoulder at Hux. “Obviously Finn and I canceled the wedding. He moved to Helena to be with Poe.”

Wow. I mean, it’s a good thing, but it’s weird to hear that Rose talking about their breakup so casually. She and Finn have been in love for years; I can’t believe they finally gave it up.

But they both found their real soulmate. What else were they supposed to do?

Kylo snaps his fingers. “Hux—let’s give the girls some privacy. We have things to discuss.”

Hux doesn’t say anything, just leans over and kisses Rose’s cheek. He has a jagged scar across his cheek that’s similar to the one along Kylo’s throat. Rose watches him get up and smiles and I realize with a strange twinge of jealousy that they actually _like_ each other. So Rose likes her soulmate, Finn likes his, and here I am, barely able to tolerate mine.

I’m shocked he came through on his vague promise to invite Rose over for a visit. Even more shocked that he’s leaving me alone with her. I watch him walk out to the kitchen and don’t look away until Rose grasps my hands, lowering her voice.

“Hux told me everything.” She glances towards them and feigns a smile. “He came to the house to kill me at first—we got in a fight. Obviously—” Rose shows me her palm, smooth except for a gnarled scar that twists down around his wrist. “That didn’t happen.”

“But… but Kylo said—”

“He’s going to kill _everyone_ , Rey.” Rose squeezes my hands hard, glancing toward the kitchen again. “Unkar is dead. Did you know that?”

Unkar is _dead_? I shake my head slowly, eyes wide. Kylo mentioned doing it in passing but I thought he would say something beforehand.

Holy shit. Unkar is dead?

Rose nods. “Dead. Hux takes the orders and hands them out to whichever contact Kylo has, or kills them himself. I can see all this stuff in Hux’s mind—I’ve seen a lot—and I know he’s going to kill everyone. Unkar, Finn, Poe, me. Hux knows. Finn has already seen people lurking around Helena watching him.”

I’m overwhelmed, still shaking my head. No. No, no. That can’t be true. He can’t do that to me.

Rose keeps talking and I feel a cold trickle along the base of my skull. I realize Kylo is listening in but it’s too late to keep him out; I’m too weak to distract him with something else. I’m in way over my head here and when he finds out that Rose and Hux are on to him and know he’s going to have them killed, too.

I slowly look over my shoulder at Kylo. He’s standing behind the island, already watching me. He tilts his head and smiles.

“He already knows Hux knows, Rey.”

I don’t look away from Kylo. He takes a sip of his coffee and his gaze wanders to Hux, who’s still talking. Talons graze along my mind but don’t dig in, and I think he _definitely_ knows that Hux and Rose know, and he’s definitely going to have them killed.

I peel my eyes away. “When? Soon?”

“It’s complicated now that Hux and I are soulmates.” She shakes her head. “I don’t know. There’s a lot I don’t know—Hux can be hard to read and we haven’t seen an interventionist. You haven’t either, right?”

“He’s keeping them away. Or the lawyer is. I don’t know—I don’t know anything.”

Rose nods. She’s still squeezing my hands in hers.

I don’t know what to say. I really don’t know anything. Unkar is dead, Finn is in danger, and Rose was _almost_ killed—and I’ve been just sitting here, totally unaware.

“Does he hurt you?”

I bite inside my cheek and shrug. I can’t even look at her.

Rose doesn’t answer. I can’t ask her the same question—I’m afraid she’ll tell me Hux hurts her, and I don’t think I can handle watching her leave with him already. But it doesn’t seem like he does. She isn’t tense and afraid like I am.

She leans closer, lowering her voice.

“Pinch yourself whenever he’s spying on you. It seems weird and it’s only temporary, but I read it makes static and they can’t see through it. It works with Hux.”

I frown. What? Pinch myself?

Kylo idly creeps along my thoughts like a spider. He must pick up on what Rose says because he digs in lightly like a rebuke. It’s enough to make me wince, and I pinch the skin on my wrist hard.

The cold sucks back and buzzes and for a blessed handful of seconds, my mind is all mine again. I take a deep surprised breath and Rose smiles and nods encouragingly. Wow—holy shit. I’ve spent so much time under Kylo’s thumb that I forgot how freedom feels.

He comes right back with a vengeance. I pinch my wrist in the same spot and he’s thrown off again, oppressive cold evaporating with an electric buzz. It’s such a relief that I can’t help but laugh. So simple. Why didn’t I think of that?

Rose glances out at the kitchen. “He’s coming. Just remember that, okay? And whenever he pushes, you have to push back. It makes them weaker.”

Her hands slip free of mine just as two heavy palms settle on my shoulders.

“Having a nice chat?”

Rose offers him a slim smile and nods. I can’t imagine what his face must look like right now, and I have zero interest in turning around to find out. 

Kylo’s hands slide down to my biceps and squeeze. He prickles on my consciousness again but my arms are restrained to my sides, so I can’t use Rose’s trick. His icy fingers casually sift through my recent memories and I dig my fingernails into the palms of my hands.

“Rose and I should be going,” Hux says.

It has the same effect. Kylo is uprooted from my memories back across the barrier around his mind. I push my nails in until I feel blood.

“So soon?” Kylo murmurs. I wonder if they can see the death grip he has on my arms. “How disappointing.”

“I have… things to do,” Rose says.

She gets up. I’m held firmly in place so I can’t hug her goodbye, and she doesn’t take the risk of leaning down to hug me. She does take my hand one more time and gives me a meaningful look before Hux ushers her toward the door.

“Come back soon,” Kylo calls.

“Rey—I’ll call you!”

Hux mutters something to Rose. I’m afraid to turn around and wave goodbye.

The door opens and shuts and I’m left alone with my soulmate, overwhelmed and maybe more terrified than before.

It’s a little easier to think with Kylo driven from my mind but I’m having a hard time digesting everything Rose said. Where do I begin? What do I do? My friends are in jeopardy and I’ve been struggling to keep my head above water. I can’t keep waiting around like this.

My spine stiffens as Kylo’s hands slide down my arms to my fists balled in my lap. He gently pries them open, tutting when he sees blood running horizontal along my palms. I can’t believe how desperate I am to get him out of my head.

“Ouch,” he comments. He kisses my temple and I wince, shying away. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

I yank away from him, staggering to my feet. He doesn’t grab at me or say anything, but he smiles, because now he knows that _I_ know what he’s planning. What he’s already done.

My mouth feels like glue. I stare at Kylo and feel him brush my consciousness, testing the waters.

“You told me Rose would be okay,” I say, voice wavering.

“I lied. I do that often.” He gestures to himself with a slim, smug smile. “Psychopath.”

He’s going to have all my friends killed. I don’t know why—I don’t _want_ to know why. I don’t want to cry and hide in my bedroom and rinse and repeat this again tomorrow morning.

I don’t respond to Kylo. I whistle for Oliver and look for his leash.

“Going for a walk? You should put on something warmer, dove.”

Oliver trots out to me with his tail wagging and barks when he sees his leash. He wriggles with excitement while I hook it to his collar, too cold and stunned by Rose’s visit to hype him up like I usually do.

I open my front door. I’m only wearing my thin pajamas and I see two black vans parked across the street along with a few other unfamiliar cars. My breath curls silver in the cold air.

“I’ll start lunch while you’re gone, then.”

I still don’t answer. I walk out the front door a step and my upper arm is seized.

Kylo’s dark eyes are hard and irritated but he puts on his façade again within a second or two. It’s so fast that I barely notice it but it’s enough for me.

“Let go,” I say.

Kylo raises an eyebrow but doesn’t let go. The calm venom in my voice even surprises me.

“The general public knows who you are, Rey.”

“So?”

“You’ll be killed.”

I yank my arm free of his grasp. We exchange glares and I carry on down the steps with Oliver. I’m not the one imprisoned. I haven’t done anything wrong.

“Rey,” Kylo calls. I think I hear him come halfway down the stairs. “ _Rey_ —come back inside.”

Our bond starts painfully pulling in my chest as soon as I reach the road, but I just keep walking.


	15. But only grow the things I need

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 👀

The pain gets worse the further I walk.

I don’t have my purse or wallet or anything else—it’s just me and Oliver following the road, not a car in sight. I’m shivering, teeth chattering. Feels like my heart is being slowly torn through my back but I’m not stopping. I don’t care.

Oliver wags his tail and trots along beside me. He’s happy to be out walking. _I’m_ happy to be out walking. The space from Kylo is nice, even if I know it’s short-lived. Hurts too much.

Snow crunches under my boots. I lower my gaze to the road, hands jammed in my pockets, twisting to glance at the footprints I’ve left behind. Not sure how far I’ll get before I can’t bear it anymore. I wish I could get all the way into town, just to see other people. Work is going to be hard like this.

It’s going to be weird without Unkar, too. I’m not sure how I feel about that yet—sad, scared, maybe a little happy in a very spiteful way. I’m not sure.

I keep walking.

A squirrel leaps across a snowy branch curving high above the road. Oliver barks and barks and it echoes through the quiet woods. Haven’t been out like this in a long time. Feels like months or years have gone by with me trapped in that house, afraid of what would happen if I stepped outside.

The world hasn’t imploded yet. Gravity hasn’t upended itself.

Kylo is having a hard time picking through my thoughts the further I walk, and I wince and pause as I reach an old broken edge of fencing. He keeps pulling on the other end of our bond—then he yanks so hard it takes my breath.

I don’t stop. I wheeze and wipe my clammy palms on my thigh and keep staggering down the road. Oliver walks alongside me, head tilted as he watches me. I’m under a canopy of snowy trees and when I look out at the field beyond the fence, I’m blinded, dazzled. I’ve been inside too long. Sun hurts.

I’m going to faint, I think. It’s coming up on my quick, darkness crawling along my periphery. The crunch of my boots sounds muffled now and my steps sway out toward the edge of the road. I’m going to faint.

I pause, panting, and turn slowly to look down the road.

A black SUV is coming my way—and my pain and discomfort recedes as it approaches. I rub my chest and squint at the SUV, too dizzy for a moment to realize what that means. They’re coming to pick me up and… they must have him _with them_.

“Oh no,” I mutter, and Oliver looks up at me.

Kylo must have been suffering the same symptoms I was; bad enough for them to bring him along for the ride. I see another car behind the SUV—back up, probably—but still feel a trill of fear. Oh no.

The SUV rolls to a stop a few feet in front of me, and the Mercedes behind it stops, too.

Laura steps out of the Mercedes. She starts toward me, shouting something and pointing her finger, and the two guards that canvass my house step out of the SUV. My ears are still ringing so I can’t understand much of what she’s saying. I’d love to punch her in the face, though. I fucking hate her, and Bonnie.

“Miss Niima!” she snaps. “You were not given permission to leave the premises!”

The guards flank Laura. I take a step back, angry and frankly, a little scared—and I see another car coming over the hill behind them.

“You are not permitted to leave the premises until our agreement has been _signed_ ,” Laura continues. “Which you have so far failed to do.”

Car is coming pretty fast. It’s a silver truck and I see one of those ramming bars across the front. I stare past Laura’s shoulder and think the truck is coming a little _too_ fast, especially on a snowy road.

“I’m not the one in prison,” I retort.

“Your soulmate is, and you must be within a certain radius of him—”

Laura pauses. She frowns and finally looks over her shoulder at the truck. Both guards look, too, and one swears and pushes her out of the way.

It comes barreling over the edge of the road, plowing through the other guard who doesn’t move fast enough. I stumble back and fall on my ass in the snow and Oliver barks like crazy, hopping around as the truck swerves hard and comes to a stop. There’s blood everywhere— _everywhere_ —and I just stare in shock as Laura and the guard pull out their guns.

I don’t wait around to watch what happens. I roll over, scrambling to my feet, and grab Oliver. The snow is a couple inches deep and hard to run through. It soaks my pants but I just keep running, clinging to Oliver and not looking back. Holy _shit_ , holy shit, holy shit.

Loud cracks ring out. I swear, ducking instinctively; I think they’re gun shots, but I’m not sure, and I’m not going to turn around to find out.

I keep running and running, breathless, chest burning. Oliver is heavy but I’m not willing to let him run behind me, and he isn’t resisting being carried. We just have to get to the trees—

Red hot pain jolts up the back of my arm. I stumble to a halt, dropping Oliver and gasping. My mind spins into a frenzy; I stand there, clutching my forearm, tears beading in my eyes. What the hell—it feels like someone just slashed me.

I take a couple shaky breaths, dizzy from the pain, and finally risk looking back over my shoulder.

Kylo is walking towards me.

My heart leaps in my throat at the sight of him, eyes widening. I stagger back a step and try to whistle for Oliver but it comes out like a whisper. Can’t get my tongue right; my arm hurts so badly I can’t bend my fingers all the way, let alone fucking _whistle_.

I keep trying to whistle as I backpedal. Oliver wags his tail, watching Kylo approach. Blood drips from his left arm. I think he’s carrying a knife.

“Oliver—Oliver!” I croak. “Come on. Come on. This way.”

Kylo whistles. It carries high and sharp and makes Oliver’s ears perk and his tail wag faster. I’m not leaving my dog. I’m near hysterics but I manage to pick him up, ignoring the throbbing pain shooting up to my shoulder. I run another few feet.

Agony lances up my arm again, and I drop the dog again. I scream, furious and terrified, grasping my forearm. Holy shit. What the fuck is he doing?

“Where are you running off to in those clothes, dove?”

I hear Kylo’s footsteps before I look at him. Trembling, I squeeze my eyes shut and slowly open them as I turn.

He can’t be more than fifteen feet away. He’s dressed like usual, and smiling at me, black hair drawn into a half-bun. I stare at him in breathless terror for a minute before my eyes wander down.

Two bloody gashes cross his thick forearm. He’s bleeding all down his wrists to his fingertips, and the knife in his opposite hand is stained red.

Wind blows a light flurry of snow around us. I’m speechless as I realize what he’s done—what he did to himself to make me stop. I’m too shocked to feel any emotion at all. I just stare at his bloody forearm, clutching my own that pulses with sympathy pains.

Kylo raises his eyebrows. He twirls the knife in his grasp.

“Pain is very distracting, isn’t it?”

“You… you…”

“I don’t find self-inflicted pain distracting.” He shrugs, reaching back to stow his knife. “But the little trick Miss Tico showed you—that is a nuisance.”

He moves toward me. Oliver barks and hops from the ferocity of his barks, nervous at first, then turning angry as Kylo comes closer. He bares his teeth and snarls a warning.

But Kylo is unmoved by the threat, and Oliver doesn’t attack. I backpedal but he catches my aching forearm, shushing my pained hissing as I’m dragged back.

He squeezes. I grit my teeth to suppress a gasp but it comes out anyway.

“If Hux hadn’t assisted me with my escape, Miss Tico would be _severely_ punished.” His dark eyes search my face, frigid. “But I suppose I’ll have plenty of opportunities to punish you instead.”

“Let—let me go!”

Even with his wounded arm, Kylo hauls me over his shoulder. He whistles for Oliver, who comes with his head bowed, and we head back to the bloody scene.

I hear crying that makes my stomach turn. Kylo walks towards it and I make out Hux speaking in a soft voice to a woman, who must be Laura. She’s still alive?

“Please… I’ve done everything you’ve asked! I have children. I have a family!”

I can’t see anything draped over Kylo’s shoulder. My skin crawls at the horrible sobbing and I squeeze my eyes shut. We’re close. I think he’s standing right beside Hux.

“Oh—Agent Wilson.” Kylo’s voice is pleasant. “How nice to see you still clinging to life.”

“We had a _deal_ , you son of a bitch!”

Kylo sighs. He shifts me on his shoulder, murmuring to Hux. There’s a heavy metallic sound, and a click—

Oliver howls at the gunshot. I startle, terrified, and hear a soft thump. Metal clinks to the icy ground but in the midst of the chaos I sense an unsettling rush of warmth from Kylo. Pleasure. It flickers for a moment before vanishing.

“You’re going soft on me, Armitage,” Kylo drawls.

“I was interrogating her.”

“Some low-level bureaucrat is of little use to us.” He adjusts me on his shoulder again. “I think you’re concerned Miss Tico will sense how much you enjoy killing people.”

“…I wouldn’t say I _enjoy_ it.”

Kylo laughs.

I’m carried to the silver truck. He opens the rear door and shushes me as he sets me inside, then motions to Oliver to jump up. Oliver tries but can’t quite make it, and Kylo smiles as he helps him in.

Rose isn’t here. She must be nearby. I shake miserably, watching Kylo climb in the other side to sit beside me.

Hux hands him a red first aid bag, and Kylo takes out a few things. Oliver is on the far seat with his tongue lolling from his mouth. I gaze blankly at both of them as Hux starts the truck and carries off down the road.

“This is going to sting, dove,” Kylo says.

I’m not sure what he means. Then he pours an antiseptic in his wounds, and I become _agonizingly_ aware of what he means.


	16. But first I must find my way back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, slightly advancing the plot

A distant muffled laugh track wakes me some time after I pass out. I’m not sure how long I’ve unconscious, but as I blearily blink my eyes open, a hazy television screen playing a sitcom comes into slow focus. I’ve been unconscious long enough to no longer be in Hux’s truck.

I swallow, throat bone-dry and taut. I’m lying in a bed; I think I’m in a cheap hotel room, with pink walls and a lumpy mattress that’s killing my back. I try to lift my head to look around for Oliver but I’m too weak to move much, too sore and raw.

Pain radiates down my forearms to my fingertips and up into my shoulders. It’s dull at first but intensifies as I struggle into full consciousness, sharp and nauseating and _breathtakingly_ intense. I can only think about how bad it hurts—all my concerns about Oliver throb away with each jolt of agony.

I grimace, clenching my jaw. God it hurts. Make it stop. Make it stop.

Hinges creak a couple feet away and I glance toward the noise, tears welling up. I make out a looming dark shape.

“How are we feeling this evening, Miss Niima?”

My breaths come quicker; jerky and shallow as the dark shape circles around the foot of the bed. I can’t see straight through the tears but I know who it is. Who else could it be?

He carries on to my bedside and opens a drawer in the nightstand. It squeaks on the track.

“That bad, hm?” Kylo rummages through the drawer. “Let’s see if we can do something about that.”

I want to know where my dog is. He isn’t here, because he would be barking and jumping on the bed to lick me. I try to sit up again but the pain in my arms is so immense that I can’t support my weight with them, and I collapse back into my pillows, face screwed up in agony. God—what is he _doing_ to me—

The drawer closes. Kylo grasps my forearm and gently extends my elbow.

“Here you are, little one,” he coos. Something pricks my upper arm and cold seeps under my skin. “This should help.”

“What… where…”

He clicks his tongue disapprovingly at my raspy vague complaints. I glimpse a needle before he wraps it in a couple tissues and places it in a small red bag.

Kylo returns the bag to the drawer. “Your pain is becoming very distracting to me. You have poor tolerance for it, and as a result it…” He gestures, sliding the drawer shut. “ _Echoes_. Very irksome.”

I don’t know what he means. He places my arm at my side and ambles toward the television, pulling his shirt over his head in one fluid motion. I stare at his broad back until my eyes flutter shut. I’m tired. My body feels heavy, and the pain ebbs into the recesses of my mind. I’m tired.

The sound from the TV cuts off. Uneasy quiet follows and I try opening my eyes to see what he’s doing. The leaden sensation creeps through my body faster and faster until I can’t even lift a finger. I’m cold, though. Really cold. I can’t shiver enough to get warm.

The bed creaks. I stiffen, breaths coming quicker as Kylo joins me. He’s warm and smells like something I can’t quite place—antiseptic, or bleach, or rubbing alcohol. It should be easy but my brain twists itself in knots trying to figure it out, and my eyes blindly roam the ceiling. I’m so tired.

He lies next to me on his side. I’m on my back, vulnerable and shivering, and when I glance out of the corner of my eye I find him staring at me.

“Oliver is with Miss Tico.” Kylo moves a bit closer. I feel his breath on my temple. “He won’t tolerate travel very well.”

My lower lip quivers. I don’t want to cry but I get that tension in my chest like an elephant is sitting on it and I cry, choking on the first sob. I want my dog.

“I want my dog,” I croak, voice cracking. I shake my head slightly and cry harder. “Please—”

“I know you do. And you’ll have him again once we’ve settled.” Lips brush my shoulder. “He’s much safer with Miss Tico for now, dove.”

He’s lied before. What if he’s lying now? What if he killed my dog and that’s why he smells like bleach?

I’m quickly inconsolable, descending into dramatic heaving sobs even through the haze of whatever drug I’m on. Kylo sighs and kisses my shoulder, then he rolls the other way. He returns to me with a phone, screen already unlocked.

Through my torrent of tears I see a picture of Rose crouching next to Oliver. He’s sitting, tongue hanging out, and Hux stands behind him with his hands in his pockets. It has to be recent if Hux is there, which is a relief—but I still want my dog. I need him. How am I supposed to sleep without him?

“Oh, I know. I know.” Kylo clicks his tongue and reaches past me to set the phone on the nightstand. “I took away my little one’s security blanket, hm?”

He cups my cheek, guiding me to look toward him, and I sniffle and stare into his haunting dark eyes. Our bond stirs with a flicker of heat but it doesn’t penetrate his depths.

Kylo kisses me. It’s gentle and soft and the heat simmers and casts its light, still just barely breaking his surface. I draw away, unnerved—and he gazes and searches my face. I hate it. I don’t get what he’s doing. It’s even worse when he’s like this: not _gentle_ , but predatory, pacing the periphery waiting to pick and gnaw at my raw edges.

His thumb strokes my cheek. He leans forward to kiss me again and I recoil, whimpering, but he smiles and murmurs and kisses me anyway. My heart pounds in my ears as his tongue slips into my mouth. Tastes like toothpaste and something else my racing thoughts can’t figure out. I’m half-delirious.

His kiss turns languid as his fingers brush down my cheek toward my throat. Heat spirals up my skin and I manage a shiver. I wait for him to wrap his hand around my neck but he just pauses, lightly touching my skin.

“I don’t care for the way you need him,” Kylo murmurs against my lips. He lingers, tracing circles around my collarbone. “ _Coddle_ him. _Dote_ upon him.” His fingers draw down the front of my shirt. “I feel a bit like a boy again, trying to get my mother to notice me.”

I’m so out of it that I can hardly feel him idling in my mind, but I _do_ feel his fingertips rest on my stomach. I twitch and bunch the sheets under my palm, helpless as Kylo trails kisses down my neck. It does strange things to me—makes my chest flutter and my head swim and pleasant warmth fill my belly. It’s relaxing, I think, even though it isn’t.

The bed creaks as he shifts closer, then his knee settles between my thighs. I can’t move my arms. I can barely whimper.

Kylo smiles against my skin, scoffing a laugh. He pushes my shirt up my stomach with one hand, and the other arm loops behind my head. Anxiety seeps through the syrupy sleepiness of the drug and my heart beats a quick, nervous tattoo.

“Oh, no need to be shy, dear.” He lifts my shirt over my breasts and tucks it gently under my chin. Fingers drift across my nipples. “I’m not going to fuck you tonight. We’re just going to enjoy your Ativan together.”

I groan. My eyes roll as Kylo slides his hand around my ribs to draw me closer, and it’s an unwelcome relief. He’s warm and I’m cold enough to be trembling through the drug, but then his mouth closes around my nipple and I’m suddenly not cold anymore.

It’s hot—wet. It’s just like when he did it to me a few days ago, or a few weeks; I can’t remember. He sucks gently, rhythmic even in the way he brushes his tongue along my nipple, like it’s an instinct for him.

Heat follows. It tickles down my spine to the tips of my toes and I sigh shakily, eyes rolling closed. I stumble along after the heat, so miserable and scared that I can’t help myself. I’m semi-conscious listening to Kylo suckle from my breast and I trip and fall right into his cold depths.

My eyes snap open.

_“Ben, dear—can you bring mommy some wine?”_

_Something pangs hard in his chest: hope; hope he’s had before that he knows is going to be crushed. But he races to get it, through a palatial large house with only wispy outlines; he’s erased most of it, just keeping the smell of wine and the way it’s cold in his small hands as he carries it carefully back upstairs—_

Kylo’s mouth stops. His fingers tighten on my ribs.

_Some wine spills on the bedroom floor. Red. Just a couple drops, but it’s enough to draw a gasp._

_“Look what you did!”_

_There’s a woman—hard to make out—then no—she’s not a woman, it’s a man—_

_He grabs Ben by the throat and grows and grows and grows into an enormous black shadow with glowing blue eyes that grow and grow in turn until they’re like two nightmarish moons. Can’t breathe._

_“I’m only doing this because I love you, Benny.”_

Ripples disturb Kylo’s quiet calm. He’s sucking on my nipple again, shallower, like he’s distracted. I keep tumbling through his memories.

_“I’m very busy, Ben. Why don’t you go play with your friends?”_

_Anger twists like a knife in my stomach, and it just keeps twisting, pouring gallons of blood for him to smell a mile away. I sit on the porch alone and see him across the street and he waves me over and there’s a split second of excitement—I’m being noticed—someone is paying attention to me—_

_“—Just talk to Uncle Luke, Ben.”_

_“Well-behaved nice boys don’t touch their private parts, Ben. What would your mother say?”_

_I fucking hate them—I’ve never felt hate like this; never felt this_ rage _that poisons my heart and leaves no room for anything else. There is no room. Despite my cavernous depths and my endless oceans; despite being full of nothing at all—I am unable to take anything more._

Kylo seizes my throat. He’s breathing hard against my neck, hand trembling, and he starts to squeeze when I don’t react. I’m in a free fall now, corkscrewing through vague memories that all seem to tear at his scabs and scars. He churns as I slip deeper into his icy abyssal depths and close my eyes.

_I want her to catch me. I want her to notice. I want her to wonder where I learned it, and check across the street, so I don’t have to tell her, because it’s bad, and I’m bad, and I’m fucking dirty and unlovable._

_“It’s inappropriate to touch yourself, Ben. God wants us to respect our bodies. Listen to God.”_

_“How will I hear him?”_

_“You’ll know when you do.”_

_I think it’s too late—I think he’s abandoned me—but the hatred and rage spreads to my brain and gives me ideas._

_And I hear the voice of God in them._

His hand is so tight I’m already nearly unconscious. I gulp, surfacing from Kylo’s memories in a panic. He’s going to faint, too. But he doesn’t care.

I tumble back into darkness. I think it’s sad that he hates himself more than anyone else.


	17. And you go lay down on the track

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> these two 🤨

I’m falling through memories for what feels like an eternity. They jumble together with bits and pieces of Kylo, amalgamations of shared trauma that my brain tries to morph into one coherent thought—but I am left tumbling in a sea of chaos and pain, torn to bits.

These are not my memories. This is not my life. I sink deeper into inky black cold depths, tendrils emerging to drag me along the sharp edges of those awful things Kylo has suppressed. These are not my memories. Illusions have been tattooed to the walls of my mind and if I run my fingers over them I can feel the unsteadiness of my soulmate’s penmanship.

Kylo breaches the surface. I’m conscious, suddenly, eyes fluttering, a shallow breath coming as I see sunlight. I’m prone on the bed and he’s lying on the other side of me, stifling his fast breathing. He’s bleeding. His wounds are open and raw.

Neither of us speaks for a while. Traffic rushes by outside and there are distant voices laughing and shouting. I wonder where we are.

I’m roughly yanked on my back, stripping the next breath from my lungs. The pain in my arm is duller than yesterday but it still smarts; still echoes across our bond and makes Kylo’s lower eyelid twitch. I can feel more from him than I have since we met: his impenetrable dark depths glow faintly, and I can pick out the slithering beasts the light touches. Outlines, anyway. Just enough.

But Kylo’s blank stare gives nothing away. His hand slides across my stomach under my shirt, fingers delicately closing around my opposite hip. He doesn’t say anything, just stares for a minute—then he reaches past me to the nightstand.

The drawer opens. He keeps staring as the drawer rolls shut again, and I can’t look away.

There’s a pinch in my upper arm. I whimper, wincing, and my wide eyes roam to my left side. Kylo has a needle buried in my skin and he pushes the plunger. It’s cold. I wonder what it is.

He draws it back out and tosses the needle on the nightstand. His expression doesn’t change as he slips away from me, sitting on the edge of the opposite side of the bed. I swallow and my lower lip quivers. Is this what he’s going to do to me forever? It just makes it worse—it makes _both_ of us more vulnerable.

Kylo runs a hand through his hair. It lingers on the back of his head.

“You are a profound nuisance to me, Rey.”

I’m dizzy, and he splits in two as he stands. My eyes grow heavier and heavier and I struggle to keep them open. He’s moving around the end of the bed, opening a dresser drawer. I wish I could tell him what a fucking nuisance he is to me, too.

Kylo pulls off his shirt. He drops it on the bed and unbuckles his belt, pulling it out of the loops and dropping it on his shirt.

“Shamelessly needy.” He puts clean clothes over his forearm, then the drawer shuts with a dull thud. “Stumbling around inside me sucking whatever blood you can find like a drunken parasite.”

I swallow, eyes rolling back. I can’t help it—he knows I can’t help it. He’s so full of shit.

“You’re jealous… of a fucking _dog_ ,” I rasp. I swallow again, fluttering with grief at the thought of Oliver, then slipping into a mumbling laugh. “Those in… glass houses…”

“Shut up, dear,” Kylo replies gently, like he’s talking to a moron.

He disappears into the bathroom. I watch the open door until he comes back, gaze still blank and arms empty. Inside he’s roiling but I’m too exhausted to make sense of him right now. All I feel is sharp pain like I’m rolling in a pile of glass, and it’s so overwhelming that I’m going numb.

I’m helpless when Kylo circles the bed and starts roughly undressing me. He takes my shirt first, but when he unbuttons my pants I squirm and resist.

“Ativan interferes with my seizure medication.” He slaps my hands away and pulls me down towards him. “But seeing how incapable you are of self-regulating your emotions, I have little choice but to keep medicating you.”

“…Makin’ it worse,” I mumble.

“Nothing is worse than being forced to endure your hysterics.”

I’m stripped naked. It’s embarrassing—or it should be, but I’m too forgone to really care, even when Kylo scoops me up like a rag doll. He carries me to the bathroom and sets me on my feet before him, facing the wall. I blink slowly, gaze roaming the small room. It’s old. The walls are yellow and peeling and there’s mold in the ceiling. I feel the humidity of the shower running before I notice it.

Kylo keeps an arm looped around my middle while he takes off his pants behind me. I sway, knees wobbling, and cling to his forearm to keep from falling.

He suddenly pulls his arm tight to my ribs, lips at my ear. It punches the breath from my lungs.

“You know…” Kylo sighs, hugging me tighter, and I wheeze. “I’m certain most of your behavior stems from post-traumatic stress. I suppose we could try exposure therapy instead.”

I sag against Kylo’s arm and he leads me to the shower, forcing me to walk even though I stumble and almost fall more than once. He helps me over the lip of the tub and steps in behind me. Black spots dance on my periphery.

He pulls the curtain shut. Warm water runs through my hair and down my neck and I close my eyes, letting the black spots coalesce.

“‘M fine,” I mutter.

“You should confront these painful memories. I’ve been spoiling you in suppressing them but I think it’s best we let them bleed for a while.”

Suppressing? He isn’t suppressing them. I hadn’t thought of any of that stuff in years before Kylo dragged it from my subconscious—in fact, those memories still feel disparate and wispy and confusing.

I frown, teetering as Kylo begins washing my hair. Can’t really remember any of it, really. Dark room. Red… sheets. Or maybe pink. They could’ve looked red because of the lighting. And if I dig deeper, I can’t recall any lurid details, just spindly hands and whispers and then I’m too nauseous to continue.

But Kylo pushes. His fingers are in my hair and I’m balking at the precipice but he pushes anyway, and I am violently submerged in a painful memory.

_“Shh, shh… you’re doing so well.”_

_My eyes are tearing up. There is something in my mouth and I can’t breathe around it. I cough and jerk my head back but I’m pushed forward again—jagged breaths and whispers—I’m very cold—_

I surface, gasping, shaking my head. Kylo is rinsing the soap from my hair and it runs down my face and I’m blinded for a moment, pitifully pawing at my eyes until he helps me. His broad chest is close enough for me to touch but I lean away instead, repulsed by the foreign memory swirling in my head.

He clicks his tongue. “Where do you think you’re going, Rey?”

I’m shoved underwater again, suspended in profound, eerie darkness. There is an error here—there is a wrinkle in the fabric of this memory—

_Pieces drift by, floating out into space; this is a puzzle that I will never be able to piece together. The longer I struggle to make sense of it, the further I slip into the chaos, and the less likely I am to claw my way out again. There is no final picture. Just pieces._

_“You’re hurting me—you’re hurting me!”_

_Voices twist into a shriek and a shrill scream. It reverberates through the darkness, tinged with angry red heat. I feel an impossible weight on my back and cool breath on my neck, and searing pain near the base of my spine. And fear. And that_ rage.

_“Am I?”_

_Pleasure tingles up my spine into my jaw and behind my eyes, and down into the tips of my fingers clawing at a velvet couch or closing around a skinny pleading throat. I am infinite. Inevitable. Invincible._

_“You’re so pretty like this. Aren’t you?”_

The water is cold this time. I blink hard, trying to push away from Kylo—what the fuck _is_ this? This is not mine. These are not my memories.

He pulls me back, lips on my shoulder, murmuring, but I can’t make it out. I’m pushed again. He’s trying to force me back into whatever nightmare swirls beneath his surface. But this isn’t mine—I am a vast open desert and nothing is hidden beneath my surface. I have nothing to hide.

“Shh, shh…” Kylo breathes. Both arms wrap around me and squeeze. “You’re doing so well.”

I slip beneath the waves again.

_“How’s that? Feel good?”_

_My bedroom has no walls. It is some vague, dissociated prison, with only a bed and a man lying behind me. It’s dark. I try to lift my head to look around but I’m too weak and too frightened. His hand is down my pants. Moving. But I don’t feel anything._

_I scan the room, eyes wide and staring. Shadows shuffle along the ceiling and slither down the walls, and my sheets are wrong again, pink, but the wrong shade of pink. My mind wrestles with the inconsistencies; tries to wind them back into the fabric of the memory. There is something wrong here._

_I wince, brushing away the strange man—but he reappears, repeating the same question. I swipe my hand and he reappears, repeating the same question. I swipe my hand and he reappears, repeating—_

I shove Kylo back.

My ears are ringing, pain vibrating in my skull. I lick the water from my lips before I step out of the cold shower, clutching the sink for support. I’m going to be sick. I need to lie down.

I stagger out to the bedroom wrapped in two towels and collapse on the bed. Everything keeps spinning. I squeeze my eyes shut.

The shower turns off. Quiet falls over the hotel room for a few minutes, until I hear the creak of the bathroom hinges. I swallow, shivering in my towels. I’m sore. Raw. I can’t take anymore.

But that’s never mattered to Kylo.

The bed shifts from his weight as he lies behind me. He’s creeping along the fringe of my mind like usual, not holding my head underwater anymore. He sidles closer, shushing me when I jerk away from his arm around my middle. Lips brush my shoulder.

“I’m so proud of you, my little dove.” Kylo’s fingers play with the edge of my towels, burrowing beneath them. “My lovely little girl.”

My eyes widen when he brushes between my legs. It’s light, but when I squirm and whimper he eases his weight on my back and his touch turns firm. He shushes my struggling, burying his face in my neck, caging me in underneath him.

Kylo traces my slit slowly, pressing to worm his finger between my thighs when I don’t open them. On the upstroke he slips his touch deeper and moves in the same excruciating way like he’s memorizing how I feel. I breathe harshly through my teeth and squeeze my eyes shut. All my emotions are hitting a ceiling, unable to expand the way they should. It’s good. And bad. Must be the Ativan.

“Are you going to be nice and quiet like you used to be, Rey?”

Kylo nudges my temple like he’s searching for a reaction just like the dog does to my hand when I won’t pet him. I set my jaw and turn my face into the pillows. There’s a cold hiss of interference in the heat bubbling up. I can’t see him, but I can feel a flicker of… something.

His arm shifts under my neck. He gently bends his elbow, grasping my shoulder and just about choking me. It gives him a flush of pleasure that comes through clean and clear and bright. He likes feeling my pulse flutter on his skin. His hand slides from between my legs to my ribs.

“Do you think you’ll be nice and quiet when I rape you?” His arm tightens, voice low and soft in my ear.

I’m grateful for the Ativan dulling my emotions because the spike of fear passes under Kylo’s radar. He’s quiet for a minute, still waiting for a response—he loves a response. He wants attention; wants someone to notice him. Just like a dog.

I don’t answer and he keeps pulling his arm tighter. I think he’s going to make us pass out again. He can’t help himself. I feel the hot rush of arousal boiling his smooth surface as I squirm and gasp and teeter on the brink of unconsciousness. He’s enjoying it so much that he can’t bring himself to block me out.

I’m going to faint—and then Kylo releases.

White sparkles in my eyes as I gulp for air, eyes rolling back. He’s pressing closer and gathers my arms to my chest with one big hand, restraining me. Icy irritation threads through the arousal and I catch an image before it vanishes into his depths.

He buries his face in my hair, trembling as he takes a deep breath. His fingers dig into my ribs. It’s quiet for a while and I smile faintly.

“I’m not thinking about—”

Kylo covers my mouth. He really _is_ jealous: I can see it as a cold green pulse; see the haunting green eyes of the biggest monster swimming in his ocean.

“Don’t worry, dear.” He kisses my bare shoulder, squeezing my mouth. “I’m sure I’ll break you of your quiet streak.”

My pulse pounds. Silence falls, only broken by the traffic moving outside. I’m treading water, but the green beast circles just below me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> twitter: @malreverie  
> carrd: malevolentreverie.carrd.co


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